Dogskin
by Damian
Summary: Sequel to A Chain of Tales. Jonathan Gilld's life is nigh on perfect until his favorite pet decides to run away. Refusing to believe that he's setting off a quest to rescue a dog, Jon meets the woman of dreams, if he can only save her from her nightmare
1. Dogskin

_**A Chain of Tales: The Second Link**_

_**Dogskin**_

A/N – This story is a sequel! Not only is it a sequel, it is the third story in a chain of tales (hence the name) that I have been working on. You are welcome to start here, though you might have to spend a little time trying to remember who the characters are I may refer to something in the earlier stories. The first story is "The Rose of a Beast" and the second is "A Chain of Tales", both in the Beauty and the Beast section, since I used the Disney rendition of that fairy tale. If, however, you choose just to start with this, just be aware that you are in an alternate England during the 18th century where magic is commonplace and the most powerful mage in the country is a Duke named Joshua Gilld. This story is about his son.

0o0o0

Summary: Jonathan Gilld has been leading the perfect life. As son to the most powerful mages in England and heir to a Dukedom, he has never wanted for anything. He doesn't have an wicked stepmother, none of his siblings are evil and plotting to usurp him and the strangest thing that ever happens in his home occurs when his parents get into a shouting match and invent new insults before kissing and making up. Trouble starts in an innocuous way when his favorite pet dog runs away and gets lost. Jonathan goes off to rescue him and finds himself in a strange adventure where the damsel is in far more distress than you could ever imagine.

Based on the Charles Perrault fairy tale "Donkeyskin" and, possibly, some elements of Robin McKinley's retelling thereof, _Deerskin_. I highly recommend that book!

_**Chapter 1**_

It was a bright summer day. The sun streamed into the meadows, making them shimmer like a sea of gold. The sky was so blue, it put the finest dyes to shame and the small brook bubbled merrily as it wound its way between the field and the forest close by. A gentle breeze rustled through the verdant trees, the picture of peace and solitude.

A sudden quaking of the ground disturbed the illusion of paradise and, with all the tranquility of a herd of wildebeests, two horsemen raced through the trees and out into the open meadow.

"I win!" shouted the one in front, throwing his head back and laughing triumphantly.

"It's only because you've yet to grow taller than a girl," said the other contemptuously. "If you actually qualified as any weight on that horse, I'd have won."

The first turned around and glared at his brother. "You're just a sore loser," he grumbled.

"And you're a sore winner." He cantered up to his brother and ruffled the boy's dirty blond hair. "I was only teasing you, Ant. You rode very well."

"I know," said Anthony, grinning happily. Nothing meant as much to his as his older brother's approbation, though he would have died before admitting it. "Jonathan, are you going to teach me how to swing into the saddle now?"

He was, of course, referring to a trick Jonathan had learned a few weeks ago that involved the horse galloping towards one and swinging into the saddle as the animal ran by.

"You mean the one Mother forbid me to do ever again?" he said, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes," Anthony said, the excitement of a fourteen-year-old boy at the prospect of something stupid and dangerous glowing in his eyes.

"Hmm," Jonathan said, stroking his newly shaved chin, "I don't know, I don't really like to disobey my mother."

Anthony snorted in derision. "Oh, please, Jon! When's the last time you listened to either of our parents?"

"Last Tuesday," Jonathan replied promptly, "When Father asked me to pass him the butter at dinner." They both started laughing. "Very well," Jonathan said as soon as he found his breath again, "But you have to promise never to let her know I taught you."

"How stupid do I look?"

"Was that rhetorical?" Jonathan ruffled his brother's hair again before dismounting from the horse and preparing to show off.

From deep in the forest, a pair of eyes watched them. They were the dark gray of storm clouds and seemed to have something of rain within them. They were red rimmed and bloodshot from the weeks worth of tears that had been shed. They were filled with pain and exhaustion and watched the boys with a longing that sprung from deep within the soul.

But the owner of the eyes knew that such happiness wasn't for her, that she would never share in the joys of companionship. It was not her lot, to be happy. She could have been contented, encircled by people who at least pretended to love her, surrounded by more amusements than anyone could ever dream of. It hadn't been that large a price to pay, at least not compared to the toll running away had taken on her.

"No," she whispered softly to herself. "You know you could never have stayed. You heard what they said about you." Her voice was rusty from disuse and she was almost grateful that the two boys couldn't see her in her current state. It would be too humiliating to face them.

And yet, there was this huge gaping hole inside her heart that was screaming for human companionship, begging her to go up to the two boys and plead with them just to talk to her, show her some compassion. She knew what they would do, though. She knew the look of disgust that would cross their faces and make them cringe at the sight of her. She trembled and, with as much force as she could muster, turned away as the younger boy fell flat on his back after failing to mount the horse. She got to her feet and slinked back into the forest, two tears making their way slowly down her cheeks, leaving pale trails in the dirt that covered her skin. Her footfalls were silent as they took her back into the woods from whence she came and she left nearly no signs that she had ever even been there. But there was one who sensed her presence, one who knew that the sad young woman had passed through his territory. He had smelled her there a few days earlier and he was curious what such a strange human was doing there. And so he decided to make it his job to follow her. But that could wait until after dinner.

0o0o0

It was a good two hours later before Anthony finally managed to swing himself off the ground, not just grab on and immediately fall off. Of course, his victory was offset by the fact that he overshot a little and went flying off the other side of the horse instead. Jonathan tried to stifle a giggle, though it has been ridiculously funny to watch Anthony's impromptu flight.

Anthony groaned as he got slowly to his feet, rubbing his rear end.

"How are you doing?" Jonathan asked.

"Wonderfully," Anthony replied with all the sarcasm he could muster. "I haven't had this much fun in days."

"Shall we go home before you completely ruin that tunic?" Jonathan asked, grinning at his mud covered little brother.

"Your concern is overwhelming," Anthony said dryly as he mounted the horse properly and gathered the reins into his hands.

"What are older brothers for?" Jonathan asked, riding up next to Anthony. They started for home, completely unaware that this was going to be their last normal day for a very long time.

The reached the gates of their home about two hours before sunset. Anthony was rather mortified by the amused stares and giggles that followed him as he led his horse to the stablemen.

"What happened to you, m'lord?" asked one of the groomsmen.

"Jonathan happened," Anthony answered through gritted teeth.

"Excuse me," said Jonathan, trotting in after him and dismounting with an easy grace as his younger brother nearly tumbled out of the saddle, "Why is everything always blamed on me?"

"Forgive me for saying this, m'lord, but that would be because everything is always your fault." Anthony snickered, while Jonathan pretended to look affronted.

They walked up to the castle, pretty much pleased with the way the day had gone. True, they were going to have to do quite a bit of fast talking to explain the miraculous transformation of Anthony's shirt from pale blue to mud colored, but they felt equal to the task. At least, they did until they walked straight into Her Grace, Lady Elizabeth Gilld.

Lizzie took one look at her sons before shaking her head and sighing. "All right," she said, "Whose fault was it this time?"

"His," both boys said at once, pointing a finger at the other brother. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"And how did it happen?"

For some reason, something extremely interesting seemed to have been going on somewhere around their feet and so they were quite unable to meet their mother's eyes.

"I'm not going to get an answer, am I?" They both shook their heads. "Very well. Ant, please get the stains out of the shirt before letting it get taken to be washed." At the look of outrage on his face, Lizzie just smiled complacently. "You know its easy to remove those stains with magic, why would you want some poor girl to suffer by scrubbing it in lye for hours on end?"

"I'll give you a hand," Jonathan hissed in his brother's ear.

"I'll be fine," Anthony answered just as quietly. Truth was, this was going to take forever to do and all three of them knew it. Anthony didn't want his brother's sympathy though. Every member of his family had assured him that his magic would strengthen with time, and truth be told, he wasn't exactly weak. But when your father is the most powerful magician in the country, your mother the person who single-handedly vanquished the evilest man on God's green earth and your sister and her husband were responsible for reviving the lost art of aquatic magic, being ordinary just wasn't enough. Jonathan had nothing to worry about, he was going to be just as powerful as his parents and everyone knew it. And his sister Abigail was quite competent in her own right. While he needed an hour just to get all the stains out of a damned shirt! "I'll see you at dinner," he said, storming away with a black look on his face.

Jonathan gave his mother a reproving look. "You didn't have to do that to him," he said quietly.

"True," Lizzie agreed. "You could actually taken the blame."

"But it wasn't entirely my fault he kept falling off!" Jonathan protested.

"Your brother is an excellent horseman, I'm prepared to believe this was all your fault and, even if by some miracle it wasn't, I doubt that it was entirely his fault."

"Then why are you punishing him?" Jonathan nearly shouted with exasperation.

"Because, as far as I could see, he was the one covered in mud. And you both know better than to behave like that."

"It's still not fair."

"Very well. In the name of fairness, you can go and take care of the trail of footprints from the door to his room." Jonathan stared, openmouthed.

"Mother-" he sputtered.

"You're a magician, not a common lord. Perhaps they can get away with what they want, but you have to care about the messes you leave behind. You know that, Jonathan."

"But a little bit of mud?"

"Start small and you'll never have to take care of a disaster."

She walked away and Jonathan stalked back to the entrance, muttering and gesticulating as he went. The dirt listened obligingly to his magic and lifted itself off the carpet to float behind him in what looked like a menacing mud monster that expressed Jonathan's current mood admirably.

Lizzie walked slowly to her rooms, wondering just when she had become the villain.

"You have that look on your face," said Joshua, sticking his head out of his private study. "What did they do this time?"

"Anthony ruined another shirt horseback riding and brought about a field's worth of mud in with him. And your sons are still hoping that if they don't tell me anything, they'll get away with it."

"Jon again," Joshua summarized. His wife grinned ruefully.

"Of course. He's mad at me now, by the by."

Joshua rolled his eyes. "Shocking development. What did you do this time?"

"I told Ant to go and clean the shirt." Joshua whistled softly through his teeth. "That's another problem we're going to need to face before long."

"Tell me about it," Joshua agreed worriedly. "One day, Jonathan will eventually grow up and stop getting angry at everything."

"And by that you mean marry," Lizzie joked.

"But what can we do to help Anthony?" Joshua finished, ignoring her. "He has the power."

"He's also fourteen, Joshua," Lizzie said soothingly. "I didn't learn magic until I was twenty-one."

"If I recall correctly, you used an incredibly obscure and extremely morally ambiguous technique that involved transferring a dead enchantress's memories into your mind."

"It was her idea, first of all. And-"

"Shh," Joshua said, laughing. "I know this story, I was a part of it too. But my point is that not everyone gets such strokes of luck."

"Give him time, though," Lizzie replied. "He'll surprise us all one day."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. I would just like to know how."

The Duke and Duchess grinned at one another before going to dress for dinner.

0o0o0

Night was falling and the castle gates were beginning to shut. The guards were so busy looking around for any people who didn't belong, they didn't notice the waist high shape of a shaggy wolfhound slink out into the forest. His fur was silvery gray with age and while he wasn't as quick and nimble as he once had been, he the wisdom of age to make up for it. He remembered the strange smell that had been around the castle a few days earlier and now he made it his business to find out who that human was. He set off, following the faint trail into the dark forest.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – Not much to say yet, as I don't have any reviewers to thank, but I suppose I could blather on for a while. I promise things will get interesting very soon. A couple of things – first of all, the story of Donkeyskin is not a particularly well known fairy tale, but if you Google it, you'll find a couple of renditions. Unfortunately, they've been "cleaned up" a bit so, if you find any that use the phrase "adopted daughter" or "step-daughter" remove the prefix. And yes, it's a scary fairy tale.

Second of all, there should be a few pictures up on my homepage of the characters from this series, one of whom is the 19 year old Jonathan Gilld, just if you want an idea of what he looks like. Since fanfiction doesn't let me post urls, just go to my profile to get it. While you're there, you might want to check out some of my other stories. (winks)

Third of all, reviewers are wonderful people and I love them to bits. If you want to become one, the application process is a cinch. Just click on the little button at the bottom left of the page and leave me a message about this story. And, poof, you are now added to the wonderful reviewers list! Sounds almost too easy, and there's no catch! If you really want me to like you, I also accept check or money order…I'm kidding. But really, review! It makes my day and sometimes even my week!

Levana (Damian)


	2. Murphy's Law

_**Chapter 2**_

_Anything that can possibly go wrong, does._

It was eleven o-clock at night, a time when all normal human beings should be in bed. Anthony had exhausted himself from his efforts in cleaning the shirt and Abigail, Jonathan's sister, was also asleep, undoubtedly dreaming of some Adonis to marry. Even Joshua had already turned in and he was sometimes known for keeping the oddest hours. Jonathan was down in the dining hall, waiting patiently in the same place where he had been for the past hour and a half.

"Gareth?" he called out again, knowing that the words would do no good, for the dog definitely could not hear him. Yet he couldn't help but try. Gareth had been his pet for twelve years now, ever since his father had brought him home as a birthday present so many years ago. They had grown up together, caused trouble together and Jonathan was more attached to that wolfhound than he was to any number of humans. He knew the dog was getting old, though, and he was nervous that something may have happened.

"That's it," he said finally to himself, rising from his seat by the fire and leaving behind the treatise on weather-magic that he had been skimming. "I'm going to find him." He was glad his sister had already gone to bed, otherwise Gail would have given him quite a tongue-lashing for stupidity. She was always so sensible, so cautious. It had been years since she had joined him and Anthony for their afternoon rides. She had grown up, something Jonathan swore he would never do.

Jonathan found his fur lined cloak and fastened it around his neck. Though it was still autumn, the nights were getting increasingly colder and the last thing Jonathan needed was a sore throat. He made his way to the doors and was about five feet away when they swung open to reveal a torrential rainstorm. The water was practically coming down in sheets and it seemed as Jonathan would need an ark just to venture out of doors.

Jonathan stared at the figure standing in the doorway, sopping wet and dripping all over the floor. "Mother?" he said in shock as she pushed the hood off of her face.

"Good evening, Jon," she said, about to take off her cape when she noticed how Jonathan was attired. "Where are you going?"

"What were you doing out in that monsoon?" Jonathan eventually sputtered.

"I had a meeting with the French wizards, it was an emergency."

"Doesn't Father usually go to those?"

"Yes, but he was busy with a spell and told me I could go in his stead." She grinned ruefully.

"What did they have to say?" Jonathan pressed. It had taken him about fifteen years to become remotely interested in the affairs of state that would be his inheritance, but now he found a good portion of them rather fascinating.

"You're being extremely inquisitive," Lizzie observed dryly. "Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you're standing here, about to leave the castle?"

"Why would I do that?" Jonathan asked all too innocently.

"I don't know," Lizzie shrugged. "Perhaps you're trying to prevent me from discovering some mistress and illegitimate child you're hiding in the woods."

Jonathan raised his hand to his mouth in mock shock. "How did you ever guess?" They shared a grin. "Actually, it's far less interesting than that. Gareth's gone missing."

"And you were going out into that storm out there to find a dog?"

Jonathan sighed, he knew his mother would think it was a foolish idea. "Yes, I know you think it's a stupid idea, it's just-"

"When did I say it was a stupid idea?" Lizzie interrupted him. Jonathan raised one eyebrow curiously. "I'll have you know, I've grown rather attached to having that enormous monster shed and drool over me."

"You're not going to stop me?"

"Jonathan, you're nineteen years old, I doubt I could stop you if I wanted to. That said, would you like company?"

"You're offering to come with me?" Jonathan couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"No, I was offering to wake your father up and send him out with you," Lizzie quipped, then paused. "Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea."

Jonathan chuckled. "Mother, I would be honored to have you along."

"Good," Lizzie replied, "I'm wet already. On the way, I can fill you in on a very bizarre meeting."

"Sounds promising," Jonathan said, raising his hood and casting a spell to keep the water off his face. Lizzie conjured up a pale silver mage light and told it to float along in front of them. They were ready to go.

"Wait," Jonathan said as they were stepping over the threshold. Lizzie turned to him. "Will your leg be alright? You know what Father will say if you overtax it again." Twenty-nine years ago, Lizzie had battled the greatest mage in England at the time. He had died and she had nearly lost her life as well. She had healed, but her left leg had never truly healed and she still limped slightly.

"Your father is convinced that I will injure myself by rising to my feet," Lizzie retorted. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

Jonathan shrugged so they set out. The rain was brutal, crashing down on them like stones and running off their cloaks in torrents. Not for the first time, Jonathan was extremely grateful to his brother-in-law for teaching him which spells will keep water from going through his cloak and soaking him to the skin. For the first few minutes, there was no conversation, all energy was reserved for struggling against the wind and rain to try and reach the woods.

The two intrepid travelers reached the trees and sank down against the trunk of an enormous fir, grateful for the evergreen's sheltering branches.

"Poor Gareth," Jonathan gasped out as he tried to shake some of the water out of his ears.

"He's a smart dog," Lizzie replied, "I'm sure he's found shelter by now. Shall we try and set a trail spell?"

"Do we have anything of his that can be used to track him?"

"Jon, you always have fur all over you. I bet you can find at least one piece of Gareth's hair on you."

Jonathan grinned; she did have a point. He muttered the dog-hair removal spell that his father had insisted he learn about three days after he got the puppy. About twenty or so steel gray hairs flew off his robes and into his hands.

"Are these all Gareth's?" Lizzie asked as Jonathan stared closely at the wet fur in the light of the magelight.

"Probably." Jonathan slipped nineteen of them into his pocket and, with the one left, cast the spell that would create a trail towards his dog. It was a relatively simple one and required very little energy since the affinity between a part of the body and the rest of it has always been extremely strong. This was the easiest way to find someone, so when someone wanted to avoid a mage, they made sure not to leave a single hair or nail clipping behind. Jonathan's father claimed that the reason this spell was so simple was because the ancient wizards were so absorbed in their work, they were terrible parents and needed a quick spell to be able to locate their wandering offspring.

The hair fell out of Jonathan hands and landed on the ground. It began to grow and lengthen, taking on the appearance of a thin silvery stream that flowed along the ground and off into the woods.

"Shall we?" Jonathan asked, glad that they were finally getting somewhere despite the rain and elements.

"We shall." They set off down the shimmering trail.

"Are you going to tell me about the meeting now?"

"If you'd like." Lizzie brushed a few errant strands of hair out of her eyes. "Apparently, one of the smaller kingdoms in Provence is experiencing a slight difficulty with their princess."

"Oh?"

"She ran away from home on the night of her wedding and hasn't been seen since."

Jonathan stroked his nonexistent beard. "Before or after the ceremony?"

"After the ceremony, before the wedding night," Lizzie answered. "She was evidently a shy girl and skittish, so they thought it natural that she hide. But when they couldn't find her after a few hours search, they began to look outdoors and discovered that she had run away. No one's seen her since, though the great mages of the continent have been hard at work. Which presumably means that they've stopped drinking for a full five minutes."

Jonathan snickered. The French wizards were, in fact, extremely competent and were in no way prone to getting drunk. True, they liked their wine, but so did any other respectable nobleman. Lizzie just disapproved of having important meetings over a bottle or several of Merlot and always blamed any of their failures on alcohol.

"Anyway, they finally made their way to our wonderful relatives and Belle referred them to us I spoke to them tonight and they begged me to help and find their princess so that she could return and marry a kind man who truly deserved her." Lizzie paused. "So far so good, but then it got odd."

"Odder than a skittish princess missing for…how long has it been?"

"Three months," answered Lizzie. "Frankly, I'll be amazed if our princess is still alive. Again, if you leave things until the last second, they become a lot more difficult. The mages were only told a month ago."

"That was stupid."

"There's more to this than meets the eye. None of the mages or other princes have heard about this wedding, nor were they invited to it. And no one knows who the groom is…or if they do, they're not telling us."

"The plot thickens," Jonathan murmured. "So how do we go about rescuing this damsel in distress?"

"Search me. I told them I'll think of something."

"That tends to mean you have a plan already."

"Her name is Princess Adéle Delamater and, assuming she hasn't drowned already, we can find her in the mirror. Belle was kind enough not to reveal that we have that wondrous artifact, so we can find her easily without revealing her whereabouts to anyone else."

"You're being quite conniving tonight."

"Well, look at this logically. She didn't want to marry this man, kind though the may be, and while the wedding might have been endurable, letting him bed her was obviously intolerable. She can tell us why she ran away and who this strange beau of hers is. Then we can decide whether it's a better idea to let her return home or help her escape her fate."

"You really enjoy arranging everyone's lives for them," Jonathan remarked.

"Hush, Jon," Lizzie said affectionately. "I haven't subjected you to a marriage arrangement yet."

"The yet is extremely worrying."

There was a sudden growl from up ahead that stopped their banter immediately.

"What is that?" Lizzie asked worriedly. Jonathan was examining the trail on the floor.

"We should be nearly there," he hissed, then broke into a run. "Gareth!" he shouted, racing through the trees as a howl of rage sounded from just beyond the nearest trees.

"Damn!" Lizzie swore, gathering up her skirts and taking off after her impetuous son. Perhaps Joshua would have reason to berate her about overtiring her leg after all.

Jonathan burst through the trees into a clearing, before skidding to halt, his eyes wide with horror. Standing in the middle of the glade was an enormous brown bear, at least eight feet high. Its eyes were a malevolent yellow and its fur was matted and caked with blood. It had reared up on its hind feet and was roaring in pain. Clinging grimly to the monster's back was a silvery wolfhound whose teeth were sunk deep into the animal's neck. The bear struggled to get rid of Gareth, but the dog dared not let go of the beast in case it got the idea to go for the human he would die to protect.

"Gareth!" Jonathan shouted again, wanting desperately to run in there and save Gareth. Then it hit him – he was being an idiot. He was nearly a fully trained wizard, he could take a bear down with ease.

He shouted a fairly simple death spell as Lizzie caught up to him.

"Don't!" she shouted, but it was too late. The spell struck the bear right in the chest and it's bright yellow eyes registered but a moment of shock before it toppled backwards, dead. Lizzie shut her eyes, hoping beyond hope that Gareth had managed to leap off in time, but knowing in her heart that the dog was too old and too weak to have gotten away.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – And the annoying endings begin anew. For those of you who forgot, I have a penchant for ending chapters on the sort of note that makes people unhappy with me. It keeps you all coming back though. And this needed to happen. Some of you will hopefully be leaving me reviews to save the dog and, I'm just warning you now, if you were one of the people who kept leaving me reviews in Rose of a Beast to kill the baby, I am going to laugh very hard. Just so you know.

Now on to the thank yous, since there are a lot. I'm glad I've garnished some new readers by posting this, so you guys can have this chapter dedicated to you for jumping on the Gilld bandwagon. Anyway, here they go!

Anarea Rose – Yeah, happily ever afters are great, aren't they. Thanks for reading and I'm glad you liked the ending.

Phaser Lady – Thank you for reading, I'm so happy you liked it.

Leotabelle13 – IICLH is definitely squee-worthy, and it just _had_ to be in there. Glad you liked the story and, if you tell me which bits were confusing, I'll fix them. It's probably not just you being confused, I occasionally forget that just because I know what's going on doesn't mean that everyone else does.

Lesalanna – Yeah, homework sucks. That's why I seem to have made a career out of not doing it. Oh well. Anyway, it's alright. Nothing wrong with long reviews, it gives me more to do in the author's notes and then I feel like the story is actually longer. Joshua wasn't pleased about the porthole thing, but it had to happen and was rather funny. And i like when he explodes, so to speak. Glad you did too. Lizzie is more morbid than Joshua, she's just quieter about it. I suppose it's a good match and yes, he can be almost as bad sometimes. I hope you like Dogskin just as much!

Trudirose – Thank you, I'm so happy you liked it. I'm glad you find them believable, it's hard to make sure they each have different personalities (and I don't always succeed) and, yeah, Jon and Ant are rather cute. Allwill be revealed in due time, so keep reading!

FutureFamousMovieDirector – Glad you approve. I was chewed out by someone who will remain nameless until I get to her review for not having one last kiss, but this worked and they are rather sweet. Thanks for reading and being such a good reviewer. Good job finding Dogskin hidden in the fairy tale section. You'll find things out soon, I'm not trying to be mysterious or anything yet. And there may be some more Diana and Anduin, although definitely in context of their children…you'll have to wait and see. And don't worry about Anthony, I'm just setting him up for his story, which wont be for a long while.

Shortstef – You slacked off for one chapter, I'm prepared to forgive you. Personally, I would have kept Anduin and given Joshua back since he's getting old. Poor guy's about fifty by now. Fortunately, he has two sons, so we should be okay. And yes, If I Can't Love Her made a reappearance, it was just too good to pass up. And they're entitled to some privacy, Had I written a last kiss, I'm sure Joshua would have interrupted it and said something utterly ridiculous and embarrassing. And I suppose five stories will have to be enough, since anything after that is into the realm of grandchildren and Joshua and Lizzie will be old and there is no way I'm writing a story in which either of them dies. But look on the bright side, I'm not even halfway yet. Glad to have you along for the third story and I hope its as interesting as everyone seems to think. I have this cupboard filled with good looking guys that I keep in my room and take out every time I start a new story, so that's where they come from and, believe me, if I could ONLY make them real. You did help with the research (I remember), so you can have a box of Quality Street as a reward (so long as you don't mind that I've eaten out anything with toffee in it – it's practically an addiction).

Ram Jas – Welcome to my thank you page, feel free to stay as long as you like! Yeah, I know, it took me quite a while to finish Rose of a Beast (erm, three years), but I've gotten better since then. I'm glad you rediscovered them though. Diana is awesome ,though if I could find a way to convince Disney this would be a good movie investment (Ha!), I would definitely want to play Lizzie. You can have Diana though, but choose a goodlooking costar for Anduin. I'm so glad you liked it – one of the best! You flatter me. And don't worry, the Gilld saga should go on for a good while. And, as I said, I would love to see some illustrations! It would be wonderful!

Mistyqueen – Yay! A new reader! Not only did you read this, you went back and read the first two? I'm really flattered and I'm glad you liked them so much. I hope this one lives up to your expectation.


	3. No Good Deed

**Chapter 3**

_"My road of good intentions led where such roads always lead."_

Jon went tearing through the clearing, grabbed the matted fur of the bear and heaved it up. With a combination of magic and desperation, he flung the beast away and crouched down by the side of his pet.

"Hey, Gary," Jon said with quavering voice, petting the animal's head. Gareth whined softly and tried to lick his master's hand. "You stupid dog," Jon said, sniffling slightly as his hands stroked the blood covered silver fur. "What were you doing out here anyway?"

The dog just laid his head against Jon's leg and closed his eyes, contentedly.

"We have to get him home," Jon said, staring down at the animal. "If he stays out here any longer-"

Lizzie laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jon, he's not going to make it home."

"Of course he will, he's a strong dog! And he's only twelve."

"Jon, if we wait until then, he'll bleed to death from the inside. Just look at him."

"So what do you want me to do, Mother, leave him here to die?"

"No. We can either try and save him now or…" She trailed off, but Jonathan waited for her to continue. "Or you could give him the coup de grace here."

"No!" Jonathan shouted, his face stricken.

"Then I suggest we get to work now. How much do you know about dogs?"

They stared at one another. "Let's hope enough," was all Jon finally said. He got slowly to his feet, carefully laying Gareth's head on the ground as Lizzie stood above the dog and conjured up a silvery dome to keep the rain off them as they worked.

From behind a tree, a crying figure watched the two mages work. Her eyes were wide with curiosity and brimming with tears as the two figures fought to save the dog that had given his life for her. The bear had come after her first; Gareth had just seen it attack and gone to protect her.

"Please let it live," she whimpered softly, hugging herself and rocking back and forth in emotional anguish. "Don't let it die." And she stared with bated breath as the life of one lone animal hung in balance.

A good hour passed in utter silence before Jonathan finally sat back on his haunches. "Well?" he asked his mother worriedly, one hand resting lightly atop the dog's head.

She shrugged in reply. "I don't know, Jon. I just don't know." But her eyes spoke sad volumes.

"Is there anything else we can do?" he whispered softly, listening to the animal's labored breathing.

"Other than slit his throat, no." Jonathan just looked at her. "I'm sorry, Jon, but he'll be in agony when he wakes up. I don't think he'll ever be able to run again, I don't even know if he can walk."

"If this was me or Ant, you wouldn't be saying that!" Jonathan shouted, then stopped. "Don't answer that, it was idiotic."

"Not idiotic," Lizzie corrected gently. "You're just thinking with your heart instead of your head."

Jonathan looked at the dog—his faithful companion and friend of so many years. He didn't want to let go, but he couldn't bring himself to be so selfish as to torture Gareth. "I guess it's goodbye," he whispered, bending down and kissing the top of the dog's head one last time. Lizzie laid a steadying hand atop her son's shoulder as he drew his knife. The blade shook as he trembled, but Jon just clenched his hands tighter and forced the edge to remain steady.

With one careful yet quick stroke, it was all over. The blood pooled slowly on the ground as Jon rose to his feet, turning away from the deadly crimson that stained Gareth's silvery fur. Lizzie stayed there for a few brief moments, her hand resting on the dog's back as her eyes shone bright with tears that she knew wouldn't be shed. He had been a good dog and Lizzie wondered, for the first time since she was very little, if there was a heaven for dogs too.

Jonathan started walking towards the forest, not even paying attention to where his feet were carrying him. He was trying not to think about what he had just done, trying not to picture Gareth as a puppy, leaping all over him and licking his face. Jonathan blinked angrily, the first drop rolling slowly down his cheek. He kept walking, his eyes fixed straight ahead and he only noticed the obstacle in his path as he tripped over it and went sprawling headlong in the mud.

The maiden hiding in the trees winced in sympathy as Jonathan got up onto his knees and turned his face towards the sky. She wanted to go up to him and apologize, to beg his forgiveness for causing the dog's death, but she dared not. For one thing, she highly doubted she would be forgiven. This was obviously more than an animal, this was the death of a friend. So she stayed hidden and watched the play of emotions across the handsome face barely five feet in front of her.

"How could you?" Jonathan screamed at the silent night sky. "How dare you?" And then he buried his face in his hands and sobbed bitterly.

Lizzie knelt by her son's side and put her arms cautiously around him. She knew that her presence was, at the moment, inferior to what Gareth could have provided, but Jonathan needed a shoulder to sob on.

Jonathan turned to face said shoulder and let his mother hold him. She petted his dark, wet hair, letting him bawl. There would be time to be strong later; now he just needed to cry.

The young woman watched jealously, her hands clenched by her side. Where was her mother when she needed her the most? There was no one to hold her head when all she wanted to do was curl up and die, there was no one to stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all right. Why was she different? Why was she cursed? She gasped softly, tears that she thought had long since dried up began to trickle down her cheek, leaving new streaks in already stained flesh.

Jonathan's broken sobs were not particularly loud and the soft whimper from the trees did no pass completely unnoticed. Lizzie, who was not the one entirely senseless with grief, heard and looked up. The darkness did its job well, melting everything into the same murky shade, like someone had spilled ink all over her world.

"Sweetheart," Lizzie said gently, kissing her son's forehead. His arms loosened slightly and he looked up. "I hate to do this to you, but we shouldn't stay here. It's dangerous."

"I have magic," Jonathan hiccupped.

"No," Lizzie corrected, "You had magic. Neither of us could handle another bear right now. Should we take Gareth back to the castle?"

Jonathan took a few deep breaths, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control. "No," he answered finally, looking up into Lizzie's eyes. "He's not human yet. We should bury him here."

"As you wish." Lizzie got carefully to her feet, forcing Jonathan to follow. "We'll come back tomorrow, alright?"

"Can't we just do this now?" Jonathan whined plaintively.

"You don't want to say goodbye again," Lizzie said, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, Jon, we can't. But we can mark this place and come back tomorrow."

"What if something happens to him?" Jonathan began, before cutting himself off. "That's stupid, what else could possibly happen to him? His master's already slit his throat."

"Jon," Lizzie said warningly, "Just imagine what would have happened had you not. Would you have liked to sit vigil all night, watching as he died a slow and painful death. Or, let's look at the best case. Would you have preferred getting up to leave and watching Gareth struggle to follow you, unable to walk?"

"Stop it," Jon whispered and Lizzie did, her point having been made. "What would you feel in my place?"

"You're allowed to be sad," Lizzie said gently. "But don't blame yourself, you couldn't have prevented any of this."

Jonathan shut his eyes and turned away, not wanting to be comforted. He wanted to feel guilty, to hurt, to do something to get rid of that aching hole in his heart once occupied by a friendly, loving, sleek, perfect wolfhound named Gareth. He knelt by Gareth's body one last time and stroked the wet, muddy fur. "I'll miss you," he whispered before rising to his feet. "Could you mark the spot?" he asked Lizzie. "I…I don't think I can."

"Very well," Lizzie answered, figuring that now was neither the time nor place for a lecture on magical reserve. She started carefully walking a circle around the dog's fallen body, carefully concentrating on what she wanted done and letting it take on the aspect of a warding as well as a beacon for them to use later. It flared with a steady silver light and as Lizzie finished her third circumambulation of the shape, it rose up into a dome, shining opaque for a moment before descending back and leaving only a small shimmer to mark its existence.

"Thank you," Jonathan murmured.

"You're welcome. Let's go home." And so they set off, Jonathan walking dejectedly in front while Lizzie followed behind, her heart aching for her poor son and almost entirely obscuring the throbbing pain in her leg.

The girl watched them leave, her soft cries muffled after Lizzie had originally looked up. After waiting long enough to be sure that they wouldn't return again that night, she ran to the prone figure in the middle of the clearing. She had been afraid of the magical glow around the animal, but it seemed to do her no harm and she had to apologize.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, clutching at the fur and burying her face in it. "Christ, I'm so so sorry!" She was mad at the boy for not being able to save the dog, she was mad at Gareth for jumping in like that, but most of all she was terribly furious at herself for needing to be rescued.

"Look at me," she hissed, stroking the dead fur, "A waif dressed in rags that are barely decent, without a home or a single friend or anyone who cares about her. And the one creature that does, not even a human, a _dog_ is killed almost immediately. Perhaps I should just kill myself and be done with it." This was not the first time suicide had crossed her mind, but it had never before seemed to so tempting. She wished that Jonathan had left his knife there for her to use, but that was a fruitless hope.

Her eyes roamed around, seeking something, anything that could be used by a desperate human. Her eye alighted on the bear.

Staggering to her feet, the young woman crossed to its corpse, and looked at the gaping jaw filled with razor sharp teeth. She knew she would never be able to get one of those out of the mouth and was prepared to give up when another idea struck her.

She looked at her wrists, once pale, slim and elegant, now dirty, cracked and possibly sprained. She knew, in theory, that to open the blood vessels in the wrists would eventually lead to death, but she had never seen it done. This wasn't the time for trivialities, however, so she rested her wrists against the sharpest of the canines and, using the bear's upper jaw, ripped into her skin.

The agony was like nothing she had ever felt before, shooting pain through her entire body and, for one moment, entirely erasing the anguish in her heart. She laughed desperately as she used the teeth to rip her skin to shreds.

Blood flowing in rivulets down her wrists, she made her way back to the dog, curling up against its soft shaggy fur. She head her head against its back, crying softly for everything she had done wrong and begging for forgiveness. As she slipped into blessed unconsciousness, the rain began to finally let up and a cool breeze danced through her hair. Midnight had come and gone and soon, the sun would rise.

* * *

It was almost moonset by the time Jonathan and Lizzie reached home. They had traveled silently, neither one speaking, neither one knowing what to say. They reached the gates of Gilld Hall and Jonathan stormed inside, draping his cloak on the wall and nearly bowling over his father.

"Jonathan Gilld, what have you been doing?" Joshua demanded, looking quite startled to see his eldest son walking in from the storm. Jonathan ignored him; stalking past his father and up the stairs toward his room. Joshua opened his mouth, ready to yell at his son, when a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"There you are," he said with relief, pushing the soaked hood off his wife's head and touching her cheek. "I was worried about you."

"Shocking," Lizzie muttered. "Let Jonathan alone, he's had a very bad night."

"How bad?" Joshua asked skeptically.

"Gareth was killed by a bear."

Joshua shut his eyes and sighed softly. "Poor Jon."

"Indeed." Lizzie replied. "We'll talk tomorrow morning, I'm utterly exhausted."

"I assume you'll tell me about the meeting then too?"

"Of course." Lizzie began to ascend the stairs, trying not to cringe every time she had to put her weight on her left leg.

"You're favoring your right leg," Joshua observed. Lizzie muttered something under her breath that was not complimentary. "You shouldn't have been out for so long or walked so far," Joshua continued, matching her pace up towards their room.

"Thank you for telling me, I _never_ would have guessed on my own."

Joshua rolled his eyes and, with one careful movement, lifted her into his arms. Lizzie's yelp of surprise made him laugh as her carried her the rest of the way to their room,

"Evidently I'm not the only one who's not as young as I once was," Lizzie observed as Joshua put her down, breathing rather heavily.

"Shut up," he growled, just making her laugh.

"Good night," she sighed, curling up in his arms after they had both changed for bed. He smiled and kissed the nape of her neck.

"Good night, darling."

* * *

A/N – Err, well, um, this is awkward. I know, I know, I've slacked off for the past four months and all I have to show for it are four lousy pages. University is hard, especially when taking classes that meet for ridiculous hours and have obscene amounts of homework. On the plus side, I'm learning to draw and have done a lovely picture of a tall building being climbed by my teddy bear. I have also managed to acquire a boyfriend who, while not blond with green eyes, is named Joshua. :grins sheepishly:

Anyway, I'm quite aware that most of my lovely reviewers have given up on me, I'll try to get back on track and write more often. Anyway, you all deserve thanks if you're even reading this at the moment. However, this chapter is dedicated to heroine beauty, for guilting me into finishing this. Now for the thank yous –

Mistyqueen – Yes, but he had to die. It just couldn't work otherwise. Don't worry, all dogs go to heaven.

Stargate rules – I will continue, don't worry. It just may take a while if I'm not occasionally stalked.

FutureFamousMovieDirector – Again, all dogs go to heaven, except the loud yippy annoying ones. Or akitas named Evita. But anyway. As of now, I have two more stories planned after this. One for Abigail, one for Anthony. Unfortunately, I'm more sure of Ant's story than Gail's but that's what the Fairy Tale anthology sitting in my room is for. I have many ideas though.

TrudiRose – Thanks, I try to make magic logical; it's a habit I've never been able to break and undoubtedly comes from how much I hate unexplained rituals and "it just happens like this, deal!" aspects of certain books. And Lizzie is very fun to write as well. Missing princess plot will all come clear soon, though I don't blame her for running.

Shortstef – I never doubted you for an instant! Although speaking of regrettable actions, perhaps I should be the one groveling. Yes, I do have a habit hand that comes out quite clearly in my stories so you are undoubtedly right. Glad to keep providing you with men, though you do realize that Joshua is also married and this is a fairy tale, Jonathan may well be at the end too. And since I have this lovely habit of disobeying my readers, the poor dog is gone.

Soofija – I wasn't worried, I have faith in you. I cant promise this story will focus entirely on a guy, I will have to tell the princess's story as well. But Jon will be the prime mover, I hope. If you can put up with all the angst until the end, then yes, there will be a fluffy ending. I am, if you haven't noticed, rather fluff addicted. (Not marshmallow fluff, though I do like that too)

Heroinebeauty – Welcome to the madhouse, I hope you find it to your liking. Thanks for reading and I'm so glad you liked both this and Little Merman.

So, this chapter was brought to you by my teddy bear shnu, my stuffed golden retriever Javan and by reviewers like you.

Levana (Damian)


	4. Wards

**Chapter 4**

_Primus, Secundus, Tertius et Quatrus…Fiat Lux!_

The next morning dawned clear and cold; a chilling breeze drifting in through the castle's two open windows. Jonathan, who was sitting in front of said windows, shivered and drew the blanket he had dragged off the bed closer around himself. He stared out at the forest, his eyes fixed on the small glimmer of light where his mother had marked Gareth's resting place. It was still far too early to set out, but Jonathan was impatient to be gone. He didn't like the idea of Gareth lying out there, all alone.

There was a gentle rapping on the door and Jonathan, without turning around, called for whomever it was to enter. Anthony slipped into the room.

"Christ, it's freezing in here," he grumbled, tugging his fur lined dressing gown closer around himself.

"So leave," Jonathan answered automatically. Anthony pulled a face, glaring at his older brother's back.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?" Ant remarked, going over to join his brother.

"Didn't go to sleep, actually, thank you so much for asking. Care to leave now?"

Anthony shrugged,. "Not really. You are in a horrible mood, though-"

"I had noticed," Jonathan interjected snidely.

"What happened?"

"Well," Jonathan began, actually turning around so that he could turn the full force of his glare on his brother, "If you must know, a large bear killed Gareth last night. So yes, I am in an extremely bad mood, will you get out?"

Anthony shut his eyes. "Oh, Jon, I'm sorry."

"That makes two of us," Jonathan growled. Anthony laid one hand cautiously on his older brother's shoulder. Jonathan looked up briefly and Anthony smiled sadly. "I just don't believe it," Jonathan murmured, looking back out at the woods. "He's been around since I turned eight; I can't believe he's really gone."

Anthony squeezed his brother's shoulder in a moment's gesture. Jonathan sighed and kept gazing.

"Jonathan!" screamed a voice from down the hallway. Anthony groaned and Jonathan covered his ears.

"Make her go away," the latter complained. "For once, I don't need her help to be miserable."

"Jonathan!" Abigail screeched again. "Get in here now!"

"I think she may have finally discovered the remains of the perfume," Anthony said softly.

"Of course," Jonathan answered tightly. "It had to be today. Of all days for her to figure out that we used it entirely up on the aniseed, it had be today." Anthony chuckled despite himself; the memory of them sneaking the aniseed balls out under the hounds' noses by masking them with Abigail's rather strong Parisian perfume was a good one.

There was a pounding on the door. "Go away!" Jonathan shouted.

"Jonathan Gilld, you open this door this instant or, I swear, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

"What's it to be this time, hot oil or the rack?" Jonathan snapped.

"Do you have any idea how much that perfume cost?"

"No, nor do I want to. Take it up with Father."

"Jonathan, of all the irresponsible things you've done so far this week," Abigail began hotly, but was stayed by her father's restraining hand on her shoulder and a glare.

"Jonathan?" Joshua called through the door.

"What now?"

"Are you ready to go?"

Jonathan was on his feet in a flash and the door was opened barely a few moments later. Joshua gave him a once over. "Have you changed any article of clothing since last night?" Jonathan shrugged in reply. "Perhaps you should have saved some of that perfume to use on yourself then."

"Can we not discuss that right now?"

Father and son glared at one another for a moment. Jonathan backed down first.

"Can we just go?" he asked softly. Joshua nodded curtly and, without another word, they walked swiftly off toward the entrance hall.

"I'm missing something," Abigail said as they disappeared from sight.

"Gareth was killed last night," Anthony answered morosely. He had the momentary satisfaction of seeing his older sister speechless.

"Oh," she said after a moment. "That explains a lot…poor Gareth. He was a sweet dog."

"He was indeed," said their mother's voice from down the hall. "Has your father left yet?"

"He just led Jonathan downstairs, why?" answered Abigail. Lizzie merely shrugged and entered the room.

"What did you do to your foot?" Abigail demanded as soon as she saw how badly her mother was hobbling.

"Is that why you wanted to make sure Father was gone?" asked Anthony shrewdly.

"Of course not," Lizzie answered with a perfectly straight face, leaning against the wall. Her children knew their better than to actually believe her, so Abigail merely sighed and closed her eyes while Anthony tried not to laugh.

"You heard what happened to Jon, right?" Anthony asked.

"Heard?" Lizzie asked incredulously. "I was out with him last night. How else do you think I did this to my foot?"

"So what actually happened?" Abigail asked, curiosity getting the best of her, as always. Lizzie shrugged and gave them a bare outline of the previous night's events. There was absolute silence in the room when Lizzie finished.

"So, what do we do now?" Abigail asked finally.

"Go to breakfast," was Lizzie's immediate answer. "Come along."

Anthony and Abigail shared a resigned look as their mother limped towards the stairwell. "I hate when she does that," Anthony muttered.

"The mysterious omniscient attitude? I mean, she is entitled to it." Anthony gave her a disbelieving look. "But you're right, it is irritating."

"If you must talk about me, please wait until I am out of earshot," Lizzie called back.

"As if that would make a difference," Anthony grumbled, but he followed his mother down to breakfast with Abigail on his heels.

The meal was a silent affair; the small chink of china teacups and silver forks almost deafening to the three at the table. Anthony was burning for more details about what had happened but capable of reading his mother's mood well enough to know that asking right now would not be a wise move. Abigail had perfected the appearance of quiet and demure girl long ago, though there was no doubt that under her calm exterior, her mind was teeming with curiosity about where her brother had gone, why the dog had died and, of course, what her mother had done to her foot this time. And Lizzie, she was merely waiting to see what life would throw at her next.

* * *

Joshua and Jonathan saddled their horses and rose off into the early dawn. Jonathan's tracking spell from the night before had worn off long ago; but both men could sense the light of Lizzie's spell and knew how to follow it. After a few minutes of silence, Joshua asked the obvious question. 

"So what happened?"

"Mother didn't tell you?" Jonathan asked in a monotone.

"She told me that Gareth was killed by a bear."

"Well, that's what happened."

"How?" Joshua pressed, trying not to sound too fed up.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jon mumbled.

Joshua sighed and drew his horse close enough so that he could reach out and lay his hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "I know you don't," he said gently. "But that won't make it hurt any less." Jonathan shrugged away and Joshua let him be, knowing that fighting him on this one was useless.

They continued through the stillness of the woods, each man lost in his own thoughts. It was only when the reached the clearing that Joshua spoke again.

"That's interesting," he murmured softly, peering at the domelike structure in the middle of the grass from atop his horse. It shimmered like a rounded crystal, glistening with the morning dew and casting a bluish white light, like the light of the moon, over all its surroundings. Upon hearing his father's words, Jonathan looked up.

"It's an activated ward spell," he said with a shrug. "Some idiot animal must have come here during the night and set off the spell."

"Fairly early in the night," Joshua added, "Else there would be no dew atop the dome. Then how come the magic hasn't receded yet; the danger seems to be gone."

"It's the middle of the woods, the danger is never gone," Jonathan answered morosely. "It merely backs away for a while."

Joshua bit back a reply. "Let's take the spell off, all right?" His son merely shrugged in reply. "Jonathan," Joshua said sternly as he dismounted from his horse.

"What do you want?" Jonathan asked bitterly, sliding easily out of the saddle.

Joshua took one look at the boy standing before him, radiating hurt and anger and drawn tight as a bowstring. "Come here," he said softly, beckoning. Jonathan acquiesced and Joshua wrapped his arms around his son. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "Jon, I am so sorry."

"Me too," was the harsh, whispered reply. "Oh, God, me too."

Father and son stood there in the dappled green light of the forest for many a long moment before Jonathan finally broke the embrace. "Thank you for coming with me," he said, tear stained green eyes looking up into his father's. "And thank you, in advance, for not telling Anthony how I bawled."

Joshua smiled and ruffled his son's chestnut locks affectionately. "If you insist. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

They stood on opposite sides of the dome and Joshua carefully used magic to activate the release point. In every warding, there is one weak point which serves to release the entire ward when probed by magic. The problem is, if one doesn't know the exact location of that point; simply probing a ward with magic causes it to become entirely impervious. Most wizards have a set place where they like to put their own release point so that its easier to remember and Joshua and Lizzie both made it their business to know how to release a spell set by one another.

The dome began to glow, taking on a radiance akin to white fire and then, in a sudden burst of flame, disappeared.

Joshua and Jonathan both blinked a few times to clear the brightness from their eyes. When the two men had finally adjusted to the light, their eyes went wide once again at the sight before their eyes. Joshua took an involuntary step backwards and Jonathan let out a cry as he ran forward.

* * *

She whimpered in pain as she was dragged unceremoniously to her feet. The last thing she remembered was the blood flowing down her wrists, the soft fur beneath her cheek and the beckoning of oblivion. 

"Who are you?" demanded an angry male voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Please don't hurt me," she found herself begging, trying to pull away, but the man had her wrists in a vise-like grip and she was nowhere near strong enough to resist him.

"Answer me!" he shouted.

"Please let go," she begged, her body shaking with sobs. "I swear, I'll do anything you ask, anything! Please don't hurt me again, please!"

She fell to her knees as the hands suddenly released her. "Who are you?" the voice asked again, this time sounding scared. But she paid it no heed, curling up in a small ball and whimpering. The words "don't hurt me" were barely audible above her tears.

Jonathan turned to his father, a mixed look of anger and fear on his face. "What do I do?" he asked worriedly, gesturing to the girl trembling at his feet.

"I don't know," answered Joshua, taking a few careful steps forward. He looked down at the wretch before them. She was a pale girl, nearly a woman, with long matted hair that was so blond, it appeared almost silver. Her face, were it not tear stained and covered in dirt, would be absolutely beautiful. What little could be seen of her body was enough to show that there was barely anything left of her other than skin and bones. Her clothes were barely more than rags, but draped over her body was a long, fur cloak that was the exact same texture and shade of Gareth's fur.

**_T.B.C._**

A/N – Yes, I know. Four lousy pages to show for a month's worth of procrastination. I'm working on it; I haven't written this in a while and, unfortunately, this story is progressing faster than I would like, but I don't quite want to slow it down and make it boring. Whatever, teach me to start _in medias res_.

Now, for the thank yous. First of all, thank you to anyone who actually came back and read after my completely inexcusable absence. Special thanks to all my reviewers…I'm tempted to start using the reply button on the bottom of the reviews, but that has one basic problem – it means I can't use the thank yous to take up space. However, we shall see if I can't find anything else to blather on about if I have to.

Shortstef - :grins sheepishly: Yeah, I deserved that. I'm glad you thought that worth the wait though, and, hopefully, I'll be getting back into the swing of this story.

Soofija – I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make it short, they kinda dictate their own length. Anyway, this one isn't much better, but at least it exists and they should get longer if you give me some time.

TrudiRose – Yeah, animals are rather sympathetic characters and I'm glad you thought Lizzie was done well – 19 year olds can be touchy characters sometimes. And I hope I will justify the princess's actions for you, I rather think she was justified, but you're the final judge there, so I'll see if I can redeem her.

FutureFamousMovieDirector – Well, I suppose I'll forgive you. You're probably right about your theories, I'm not really going for suspense in this one, since Donkeyskin is a more obscure fairytale, I can kinda toe the plotline more than with the others. But we shall see.

Levana (Damian)


	5. Stubbornness is Hereditary

**Chapter 4**

_Smells Like Teen Spirit_**  
**

Jonathan was slumped down on one of the chaise lounges in his mother's sitting room. His father leaned against the wall behind him, waiting for Lizzie to emerge. Joshua, after a few moments of careful deliberation in the woods, decided that, Gareth aside, they had to take the girl back. There had been no sign of Gareth, other than the magnificent fur wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and while Jonathan had wanted to interrogate her as to where she had gotten it from, Joshua couldn't help but point out that she was unmagical and under no circumstance could she have managed to transform him into a cloak. And so they cast a sleeping spell on her to take her back to the castle, since she seemed to mistrust them and would shy away from both men if they even tried to draw close.

Lizzie had met them at the door, trying to hide her astonishment at the burden in her son's arms. Joshua calmly explained to Lizzie how they had found her. She made no reply, merely arching one eyebrow before beckoning for them to follow her. Both men did, Jonathan grimacing slightly for, emaciated though the girl was, she still got heavy after a while. He had wanted to levitate her, but his father had pointed out, rather legitimately, that were she to wake up and find herself floating in midair, her reaction might not be all that easy to deal with.

Under his mother's directions, he set her down on the couch in Lizzie's bedroom, then allowed himself to be shooed out into the sitting room with his father. Jonathan felt almost dizzy, as if he didn't quite believe what was happening. Who was this girl and how in hell's name did she find her way under a protective spell like the one over Gareth? And where did that cloak come from? Forget that, where did Gareth go?

These questions were still racing in circles around his brain when Lizzie reentered the room.

"Well?" Joshua asked from the armchair he had sunk into.

"Well what?" Lizzie replied calmly.

"How is the girl?" Joshua spelled out.

"Sleeping."

"Did you get anything out of her?" Jonathan couldn't help but ask.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "She hasn't regained consciousness so, no, I haven't." She looked around the room and allowed her gaze to alight on her son. "When she does, however, I expect you to behave properly around her."

"I'm nineteen," Jonathan snapped, "Not nine. I can handle myself."

Joshua and Lizzie shared a look, but said nothing. "So what do we do until she wakes up?" Joshua asked finally.

"This may just be my opinion, but I would go and deal with a small matter of a bottle of perfume," Lizzie drawled.

"Any reason you couldn't have dealt with that in my absence?"

"Other than that I had no desire to whatsoever? No." Jonathan hid a smile as his father glared at Lizzie before stalking out of the room.

"Good," Lizzie said, watching his retreating back. "I need to talk to you."

"What have I done now?" Jonathan asked.

"Nothing yet," Lizzie answered. "But I have an idea about how I set the wards over a dog only to have them removed from a girl."

Jonathan perked up. "Do tell."

"I'm assuming that she entered the ward completely by accident. If she meant no harm to Gareth, there was no reason for it to keep her out."

"But she obviously did mean har-" Lizzie cut him off.

"Not necessarily. You see, if she was injured in some way, the wards may include her in the circle of their protection and act to preserve her as well."

"She didn't seem injured to me."

Lizzie's mouth curled up in a small sad grin. "That's because you weren't looking hard enough. Come with me." They entered her bedroom and Jonathan felt a stab of pity in his chest as he looked down at the pathetic creature curled up under the blanket. She had been washed up and her hair had been combed, but it only served to accent her thinness and gaunt face. Her skin was practically translucent and her hands seemed all bone and tendon.

"I wish I knew what made her like this," Jonathan murmured.

"Or who," Lizzie said darkly. "But look at this." She carefully picked up the girl's hand and turned it over so that the wrist was face up. Jonathan's eyes went wide. The pale skin was crisscrossed with raised, red angry scars that looked as though someone had tried to draw a map with a knife.

"Poor little mouse," he said softly, looking at her again. "Do you think she did this to herself?"

"It's likely," Lizzie answered, turning her hand palm down so that the scars weren't immediately visible. "If you want to kill somebody like that, you slit their throat, not their wrists."

"Then she did it herself, crawled into the ward's protective circle and the magic tried to protect her and save her life?" Lizzie nodded. "And because of that, someone turned my dog into a coat?"

She shrugged. "It does sound a little far fetched when you put it like that, yes."

"But you believe it." Lizzie shrugged again, letting Jonathan decide for himself. "Either way, what are we going to do now?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, the last time we took in a washed up, confused stray, he wound up embroiling us all in a plot to nearly submerge the continent and you married off your eldest daughter." Jonathan got a look of horror on his face. "Oh no-"

Lizzie burst out laughing, interrupting him. "Don't be absurd, Jonathan, I don't even know the girl. Besides, the fact that last time was so exciting and dangerous means that we might manage to get away with being nice, quiet Good Samaritans this time."

Jonathan raised one eyebrow. "That'll be the day, mother."

"One would think _you_ were out looking for a wife," Lizzie countered.

Jonathan shuddered visibly. "Heaven forbid!"

"Well then, predict the outcome of this little circumstance."

Jonathan stroked his chin. "Two alternatives. Either she's a poor peasant girl who, for reasons unknown and not particularly interesting, ran way from home and who needs a moment or two of help from us before being sent on her way."

"Or…" Lizzie prompted.

"Or the world is going to be facing certain magical doom, in which case I hope your foot feels better soon."

Lizzie laughed. "I'm glad to see you can face doom, despair and destruction with such equanimity."

"No, "I'm just trying to block out my memories of Gareth." Jonathan shrugged. "Don't worry about me, the pain dulls swiftly."

"You're like me," Lizzie said softly, laying her hand on her son's shoulder. "When you're hurt, you hide behind a mask of humor."

Jonathan didn't reply; he didn't really need to. "I'm off to go and deal with Abigail," he said after a moment or two. "No doubt Father has heard her side of the story enough times by now."

"I'm tempted to ask if there is, in fact, a mitigating aspect to your side of the story."

"Yes, that scent is awful!"

Lizzie swatted at his head, before sending him off to be rebuked. He left the room, whistling the tune to what Lizzie recognized as an incredibly bawdy drinking song. Tempted though she was to call him on that, she deemed it wise not to inform her son that she knew the words to that song and many more like it. She watched him leave, wishing that she could force him out of from behind the walls he built around his emotions. It had taken less than twelve hours for him to go from practically heartbroken to his usual, sarcastic self and Lizzie knew that those painful emotions would fester in him and only make it harder for her poor son. But he seemed to have inherited stubbornness from both his parents so there was little she could do to help him.

In the meantime, however, she would have to come up with some way to deal with the poor girl now entrusted to their care. She sighed and retired to the other side of the room, sitting on the edge of her bed with her chin propped on her hands.

After about five minutes, the figure on the lounge cautiously opened one eye and looked towards the door. A small grin danced across Lizzie's face as she watched her charge.

The young girl blinked a few times to try and clear her vision. She remembered full well what had happened to her; how she had seen the two men approach her and panicked.

Stupid, she thought to herself. You know how to behave to a gentleman, yet instead you curl up on the floor and beg him for mercy. A stranger you've never met, no less. She shuddered slightly and drew the fur closer around her frame. She remembered the look of anger on the man's face; he must have known that the poor dog had died because of her. Why else would he have been so angry? And he had every right to be angry, she reminded herself. And now here she was in the boy's home; the perfect place for them to send her back to her father and to her wedding. She shook her head at that idea; she would never go back. Had she died, she might have been able to avoid it, but she was so pathetic, she couldn't even kill herself properly.

The young girl rose to her feet, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself.

"I have to get out of here," she whispered hoarsely.

"So soon?" Lizzie asked, making the girl whirl around and let out a small cry of shock. "Why you've only just arrived."

* * *

As soon as Jonathan entered his sister's apartment, he was immediately accosted by all three members of his family therein. Anthony was looking for an ally, Abigail was looking for a scapegoat and Joshua was looking for an excuse to end the argument in under an hour. 

"My adoring subjects," Jonathan drawled as his younger siblings practically sprinted towards him.

"I'm not dead yet," Joshua retorted.

"Not for lack of trying by your children," Jonathan shot back. "How many gray hairs are we up to now?"

Joshua, who was not in the least bit pleased to be reminded that the golden luster of his hair was slowly fading to silver, glared at hi eldest son. "And this is supposed to mitigate your punishment?"

"There's more to life than a bottle of perfume," Jonathan responded philosophically. "If she's that desperate for it, I'll go out and buy her some more."

"You have horrible taste in perfume," Abigail said contemptuously.

"Judging by the bottle we recently borrowed," Anthony quipped, "So do you."

"Borrowed implies return," Abigail pointed out. "I don't see any evidence of you doing that."

Jonathan gave his father a look. "Have they been doing this all day?"

"Since I arr…don't even think about sympathizing with me, this is your fault."

"My fault?" Jonathan asked incredulously.

"Yes, you're the eldest, it's your responsibility to behave properly."

"Diana's the eldest."

"Eldest at home," Joshua amended. "You're going to have to buy your sister a replacement bottle."

Jonathan shrugged. "All right."

Joshua looked at him, then sighed. "Perhaps I should clarify, you're going to have to take your sister shopping for a new bottle."

"Over my dead body," Jonathan couldn't help but exclaim at the same time that his sister affirmed that she'd rather be eaten alive by rabid wolves.

"Both of those could be arranged," Joshua said tiredly. "Now, will the two of you please start acting your age so that I can focus on small details like running a duchy?"

"You know you love us," Anthony said with a smile.

"Love you, of course. Do I like being around you?" Joshua left the question hanging, before giving a lopsided grin. "Now Jonathan and Abigail, you have lessons with your mother, do you not?" Jonathan rolled his eyes and Abigail pulled a face. "Anthony, please come with me, I have some work I need your help for." In synchronization, the looks of disgust on the older Gillds' faces morphed to ill concealed worry for their younger brother.

Anthony took one look at them before narrowing his eyes. "I don't need your damned pity," he snapped, storming off. Joshua, without saying a word, followed him, leaving Jonathan and Abigail staring at one another worriedly.

"Don't be mad at them," Joshua said as he finally caught up with his youngest son.

"Why not?" Anthony replied, dashing his hand across his eyes to catch the tears threatening to fall. "Do they mean well?"

"We all 'mean well'," Joshua answered patiently. "That doesn't always mean we act well."

"I'll agree with that." There was a moment of silence. "If you're waiting for me to ask the question 'what's wrong with me?' you're wasting your time, I'm not going to."

Joshua ran his fingers through the hair beginning to fall into his eyes. "I wasn't waiting for existential complaints," he said quietly. "God knows I haven't given you any good answers yet, why should you expect any now?"

"Why is it that the only way to achieve anything in this family is through magic?" Anthony mumbled. "You and Mother-"

"I know, I know," Joshua cut him off. "Destroyed Duke Andrew. I haven't done anything constructive since I was twenty-five, thank you for reminding me."

Anthony laughed despite himself. "But at least you did something," he said quietly.

"As will you," Joshua said softly. "Which brings me to the point of dragging you along with me." Anthony raised both eyebrows curiously. "I have a meeting with some of my military staff and I would like an outsider's opinions to ensure that we make at least a modicum of sense."

"I know nothing about armies," Anthony said.

"You'll learn quickly," Joshua replied with a shrug. "If it was at all difficult to find ways of decimating others, there wouldn't be half as many wars as there are." Joshua chuckled at his own dark humor and led the way towards the council chambers.

* * *

Jonathan and Abigail shared a glance. "That wasn't Father at his most tactful," Abigail said finally. Jonathan shook his head in agreement. "I wonder what they're going to do about Ant?" 

"Knowing them, nothing," Jonathan answered. "Something absurdly miraculous will happen and they'll look suitably shocked at it."

"Miraculous?" Abigail drawled.

"Of course. You know Mother only takes credit for the things which she has absolutely nothing to do with." They sighed and made their way up the stairs. It was an interesting phenomenon, oft noted by their parents, that Abigail and Jonathan always needed something to fight against. If there was nothing around, they would fight with one another, but as soon as you give them a common enemy, they worked beautifully together. It drove Joshua mad, thought it only amused his wife.

* * *

A knock on the door interrupted the staring match going on between Lizzie and their mysterious guest. Lizzie sighed, knowing that it was her children, ready for their magic lesson and knowing also that she owed them her time, despite this fascinating distraction. 

"Very well," she sighed softly, looking at the frightened girl huddled on her chaise lounge. "I'll be back soon. I'm going to trust you not to run; you're far safer in here than with the wolves, bears and monsters in the woods."

She left the room, limping slightly to go and bring her son and daughter into the study where they would work on mist divination. As soon as the door clicked shut, the young girl clambered to the window and stared out. It was a long way down, but she had spent months learning how to escape. This would be no problem for her.

_**T.B.C.**_

Thanks, one and all, for reading. And thank you to shortstef, Soofija, xosweteangelxo and FutureFamousMovieDirector. From now on, I'm going to try and reply to the reviews as I get them and not use this as an excuse to take up space.


	6. Is This Home?

**Chapter 5**

_Is This Home?_

"Almost there," the girl whispered to herself as she crept cautiously across the lovely lawns that sprawled out from the castle. She was, at the moment, crouched behind a flowering apple tree, her thin form hidden entirely by the trunk. She had only a few yards left until freedom, until she could replace the dangers of humanity with the far more bearable dangers of the woods. She dared not remain here. They were kind now, but they would want to know who she was and why she was here and, as soon as they learned her identity, she would be sent back home. She couldn't be sent home. She would rather die. And if her luck remained the way it was, she probably would.

A quick dash brought her to the gates of the property. There were no guards, merely two enormously ornate iron gates. She was frozen in her tracks as she looked at them. The loops and whorls of the iron was enough to attract her attention, but the heraldic lion and eagle cut into each gate were masterpieces of craft that she wasn't sure were even possible without magic.

"Lion and eagle," said an amused voice from behind her. "Combined, they create a gryphon, the heraldic symbol of the Gillds." She whirled around to face the speaker and found herself staring into a pair of ocean blue eyes, set in a pale face and framed by a few wisps of long blond hair that had escaped their braid.

"Get away from me," she hissed at the speaker. "You can't keep me here!"

"I don't have to," the blond haired girl answered. "The gates will do that for me."

"Then I'll climb over the wall," she said resolutely.

"In your current state, I doubt you could climb over a stepping stool. What is your name?"

Her eyes went wide. "Why do you care?"

"Because I have to call you something," answered the blond girl with a shrug. "Give me an alias, if you prefer. Here's your chance to choose your name."

She cast a longing look towards the gates, but believed the girl when she said that they were magically sealed. But if she gave them a false name, a false identity…well, perhaps word would never get back to her father as to her whereabouts.

"Very well," she stammered. "You can call me Eris."

The golden haired girl raised one eyebrow, but said nothing. "Very well. My name is Abigail. Care to accompany me back to the castle?" The newly christened Eris turned away from her. "If you wish to try running, be my guest. I'll wait. You cannot leave the castle unless either the Duke or Duchess chooses to let you out."

Eris shut her eyes and bit her lip. "Where am I?" she asked finally.

"Gilld Hall," Abigail answered cheerfully.

"Gilld," Eris breathed softly. "As in Duke Joshua Gilld? Princess Belle's brother?"

Abigail smiled. "You are obviously from the continent," she said, "If you identify the Duke as a relative of the Princess' instead of as the most powerful mage in England."

"Is he?" Eris asked in a small voice, making Abigail chuckle.

"If he isn't, his wife the Duchess most certainly is. Would you like to meet them?"

Eris trembled. How could she hide her identity from people with such power? She knew that the Dukes of England were, in some cases, even more powerful than the Princes of France. And Duke Gilld was, by now, legendary among them. She had grown up on stories of how he rescued his niece from an evil enchantment, how he vanquished his evil father. And now, to meet him face to face?

"He's not quite that intimidating," Abigail observed.

"How can you say that?" Eris gasped. She had a healthy fear and awe of magic, something her new acquaintance seemed to lack.

Abigail shrugged. "He's my father." Eris thought that if her father had half the skills that Duke Gilld was purported to possess, she would be very frightened indeed. "He's really quite soft at heart," Abigail continued.

Eris rolled her eyes, you don't kill great magic users by being a loveable old softy.

"I saw that look," Abigail said. "Share your thoughts." But Eris remained silent. "Oh, very well. Let's go inside; it's still cold here. And probably going to rain."

"As always," Eris muttered.

Abigail grinned. "Welcome to England." She held her hand out to Eris who, after a moment's deliberation, took it and allowed herself to be brought back in to Gilld Hall.

"Welcome back," Lizzie drawled as she saw her daughter enter with their runaway. Eris blushed crimson.

"I…I'm sorry Your Grace," she stammered.

"As am I," Lizzie answered. "There were, perhaps, less terrifying ways to introduce myself to you."

"No, you're traumatizing under any circumstance," Jonathan called from where he was sprawled on the rug in front of the fire.

"Ever the wit," Abigail muttered. "That is my older brother, Jonathan. I'd like to excuse his actions in some way, but he really is always like that. Jonathan, get up and greet your guest."

"I've met her already, thank you," Jonathan muttered, but he did stand up.

"Manners, Jonathan," Lizzie said idly, though there was an icy undertone to her voice.

Jonathan almost responded with "What are those?" but thought better of it at the last minute. He stalked over towards the girl, who was still wearing that cloak; what he was calling in his head Gareth's cloak. She seemed like she wanted to run away from him, which suited him admirably. He made a short bow before holding his hand out. "I am the Viscount Jonathan Gilld. And you are?"

He could actually see her swallow numerous times before finally regaining enough composure to reply "A…a pleasure, Vicomte. I am Eris."

Lizzie chuckled softly and Jonathan gave her an incredulous look. "Goddess of strife?" he said, trying not to sneer. "How ironically appropriate." He refused to look at her face as he dropped her hand. "Though I don't see why we're only welcoming you now. I thought you were a frequent visitor every since my mother and father met."

Abigail couldn't help herself and burst out laughing. Eris met Jonathan's eyes and, through the tears glimmering in the corner, he saw gratitude. It was now his turn to feel the desire to back away as swiftly as possible, which he did.

"You have your father's sense of humor without either his charm or the modicum of tact he's learned," Lizzie observed, which made Eris try to hide her grin.

"Faulty education in childhood," Jonathan tossed back as he flopped down before the fire with the book about tactile illusions that his mother was making him read.

"Pay the philistine in the corner no heed," said Abigail grandly. "No one else will either."

"I resent that," Jonathan called up from the middle of a chapter on the illusion of fur. They remained true to their word and ignored him.

"Come," Lizzie said, "Let me show you to your room."

"I'll do it," Abigail offered, but Lizzie shook her head.

"You're not mistress of this house yet," she teased gently. "Now, if I recall correctly, there are some readings on the library desk for you as well."

"The book's called _Playing With Fire,_" Jonathan called out. "I had to read it a few weeks ago. Good luck, you'll need it." Abigail rolled her eyes, but left the room for the library in search of the recommended tome.

Lizzie beckoned and, with many misgivings, Eris followed her hostess out into the hallway. She could not bring herself to trust this strange and powerful woman, despite the kindness she was being shown.

"I am going to apologize again," Lizzie said, laying her hand on Eris' shoulder, which made her jump a foot in the air. "I should have known better than to have treated you in that manner. You have obviously been through a lot and, well, that was not me at my most tactful."

Eris did not look up. She did not know what to do and, more importantly, could not discover what these people's motives were.

"When you're ready, you can tell us what happened to you," Lizzie continued. "Until then, you are more than welcome to remain here under whatever alias you wish to give and with whatever story you want to create for yourself. I will not send you back home unless you wish me to…"

"No," Eris whispered, turning to the duchess. "Please don't make me go back there."

"I just said that I would not," Lizzie answered, turning Eris so that she could look the girl in the eye. Eris wanted to look away, drop her gaze, but the woman she was now facing was impossible to turn from. "I give you my solemn oath that you will not come to harm so long as you are under our protection. The Duke and I will not allow a guest of ours to be harmed."

"No matter who comes to fetch me?"

"If all the kings in Europe came to our gates demanding your release, we would not let them even lay eyes on you without your consent." For the first time, Eris actually returned a smile.

"Thank you," she said, dizzy with relief, "You have no idea how much this means to me, Your Grace."

"Lizzie," the duchess corrected. "I try to be on a first name basis with my friends. Now, follow me and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

Eris followed _her_ through the castle, utterly blown away. She had been searching for safety, true, but had never dreamed she would end up in a place such as this. If she could trust the duchess and take her at her word, there was no way anyone could hurt her now. She was safe from them, as safe as she could ever be. If she could trust these strangers. Her head was warning her that no one can be trusted, everyone wants one thing and one thing only—to hurt you. Her heart, however, was not listening. It was lost in fancies of living out the remainder of her life in one of these towers, blissful and unaware of anything else in the world.

"Here you are," Lizzie said, coming to a sudden halt. Eris nearly walked into her, catching herself just in time and apologizing profusely.

"Don't be sorry," she was told by a duchess who, of all things, seemed to be laughing at her. "You'll be sleeping in here." She waved her hand idly and a silver key appeared on a chain, hanging in midair. "This is the only key to your room, keep it with you. If you wish the maids, or anyone else, to come in simply leave it unlocked."

For someone who had never been allowed to lock a door in her life, this was a strange and wonderful luxury. She took the key, her hands shaking, and thanked Lizzie profusely once again.

The duchess turned aside Eris's words with a wave of her hand. "It's no great hardship for me, you have no reason to be quite so grateful."

"You don't understand," Eris began, then cut herself off. "Good night, Your Grace." She unlocked the room with a shaky hand and nearly ran into it. Erix shut the door behind her with a satisfying click, then slouched down against the wall. What had she been thinking? She had been close, this close, to telling the Duchess details about her past. And then the Duchess would ask questions and would find out the awful truth and kick her out. They all had, in the end. She saw the looks of disgust on all their faces, burned into her brain.

She got to her feet, determined not to think about the past. That was over, she was in England now, under the protection of the most powerful mage in the land. And, if she played her cards right and these people turned out to be as good underneath as they seemed on the surface, she would finally be safe.

Eris crawled into the enormous bed, kicking her feet out in all directions and reveling in the feeling of being alone. She drew the curtains shut around her and laid her head on the pillow, falling into the sort of peaceful sleep that she had not been blessed with in over a year.

Lizzie was not quite so fortunate. She was sitting awake in bed, a well-loved book of fairy tales sitting open on her lap. She was not reading it, though. Her eyes were wandering aimlessly around the room, though they darted often to the closed door on the left, the other entrance to her husband's study.

"He should be coming to bed soon," she murmured to herself. "It's already late."

As if on cue, the door swung open and Joshua entered the room. He smiled crookedly at Lizzie, then turned aside to change into sleepwear.

"I take it your meeting went well."

"If we're measuring amount accomplished by time wasted, then, yes, it was marvelous." He crawled into bed next to her and looked up at the canopy, his head pillowed on his arms. "Any luck with our visitor?"

"She's been badly hurt, Joshua, you can see it in her every movement. I've promised her sanctuary here for as long as she needs it."

"Do you think she's safe?"

"As opposed to what, a spy for our enemies?"

"It's a possibility."

"It's a highly unlikely one, Abigail caught her trying to run away and did an impressive job convincing the poor girl to return."

"So what do we do? You know as well as I do that she's of noble blood and, sooner or later, someone will be looking for her. What do we do then?"

"Tell bald-faced lies?' Lizzie suggested sleepily. "Think on this tomorrow?"

"You really are worn out, aren't you?"

She nodded and laid her head on his chest. Joshua smiled and wrapped one arm around her as she drifted off to sleep. He remained awake a little while longer, paging idly through her book before he too allowed slumber to claim him.

And so, peace settled on the Gilld household, with only the sounds of Jonathan's quiet sobs to break the stillness as he mourned the death of his best friend.

_**TBC**_

And now that my life has taken on a semblance of normalcy and I remember how I wanted the plot of this story to unfold, updates should be rather more regular than they have been. As in, I don't think the next one will take eight months. In fact, I can guarantee it. Seven months and twenty-nine days, tops.

Anyway, thank you for reading, reviews are always appreciated, both old friends who have wondered what fruminous bandersnatch devoured me and new explorers into the Gillded universe. Enjoy!

Levana (Damian)


	7. Strangers Like Me

**Chapter 7**

_Strangers Like Me_

Out of all the places in Europe in which it was possible to seek sanctuary, and Eris had been to quite a few, there was no place like Gilld Hall. She was firmly convinced one could spend a week wandering around the place and still not see the same rooms twice. And it was a beautiful castle, complete with marvelous gardens and marble terraces. Once she understood that this place was a refuge and not a prison, Eris thought she could be happy just exploring the palace for the rest of her life.

But that, of course, was not to be. On her third day's exploration, she was walking down a familiar hallway that she was fairly sure led to the kitchens, when she was nearly run over by Jonathan. She pressed herself against the side of the wall as he dashed by without so much as a word. Eris stared after him in utter shock, wondering what in heaven's name was going on.

A few minutes later, her unasked question was answered as another figure came stalking down the hall. Abigail looked like some sort of snow queen with her pale hair and icy glare. Eris was tempted to find somewhere, anywhere, to duck and hide, but Abigail had already caught sight of her and the latter's look softened considerably.

"You haven't seen my recalcitrant brother recently, have you?" Eris nodded wordlessly, and pointed down the hallway in the direction she had just come. Abigail narrowed her eyes. "He wasn't, by any chance, running as fast as his lousy legs could carry him."

Eris smiled. "He was running rather swiftly," she admitted.

"I knew it!" Abigail groaned. "Honestly, I will kill that boy one of these days. He needs to find some better outlet for his anger than playing idiotic pranks on me."

"What has he done?" Eris asked politely.

"Nothing of interest to anyone other than myself," Abigail snapped. Eris took a step back; she had not meant to upset Abigail. The young noble seemed to be the only one in this house who actually noticed her, other than the duchess. Eris tried not to think about the duchess, the woman was terrifying.

Abigail sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, oblivious to the distress of the other girl. It was only natural, Eris supposed. People tended not to noticed her distress, she was used to that.

"Would you like to come down to the kitchens with me and find breakfast?" Abigail offered. "I don't think I will give chase to _him_ just yet, I'll bide my time and then take my revenge."

The thought of food, which was what had coaxed Eris out of bed to begin with, was enough of a draw to acquiesce to Abigail's request. The two girls walked along, Abigail trying to draw her companion into speech and, to some degree, succeeding.

Eris found herself liking this girl, despite her fears of doing so. She seemed kind and truly interested, if a little more outspoken than anyone she had ever met. Eris was learning that the Gillds were not exactly ordinary nobility. Then again, she probably could have figured that out with her head buried in the ground.

But they were kind to her, which was rare, and willing to leave the past buried, which was rarer. She knew, well, hoped she could be happy here.

Jonathan watched them walk by and breathed a sigh of relief. Abigail had given up the chase for now, which was probably a good thing, despite how entertaining he would have found it. He jumped lightly down from the top of the window and strolled off in the opposite direction, where he came face to face with his father.

"Just the man I was looking for," Joshua said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Jonathan shrugged his shoulders, inviting his father to continue. "Apparently some sort of catastrophe has happened in Abigail's room. She said she was perfectly willing to fix it herself, but your mother has given her the job of looking after our latest houseguest. You _will_ do your sister the favor of cleaning up that quagmire you have turned her room into."

Jonathan tried not to swear too fluently in front of his father, though the man had probably taught him a good two thirds of the ones he knew. "Of course, sir" he said, sauntering off.

"Jonathan," Joshua called after him. "This is the last prank you will play. I'm no going to give you the 'I know you are suffering, but you cannot behave like this" speech, I have a little more respect for your brains. And I hope I do not need to provide you with a concrete threat before you listen to me. However, if you want one, cross the line one more time and you will find out." Jonathan stalked off, the interview clearly over.

He stormed into Abigail's room, a brief grin flitting across his face as he looked at what his father had rather accurately termed a quagmire. It was going to take all day to clean up. He should know; it took all night to prepare. Unnecessarily complicating spells was fun and his father had probably spotted immediately how well the magics had been tangled. Muttering to himself, he began the long task of trying to untangle his masterpiece.

He was at it for the entire morning and only stopped sometime around one, when there was a knock on the door. He ignored it, though; his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Lord Jonathan?" called an unfamiliar voice from outside. He sighed and got to his feet.

"What do you need?" he asked, pulling open the door. Eris was standing there, a tray of food levitating by her side. "Your mother was wondering if you were hungry," she said quietly.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Somehow I doubt that, she's probably not all that pleased with me right now." He stood aside from the door and invited her to enter. The room was in a much better state than it had been in earlier that day; there was actually a chaise lounge and table completely clear. She sat down and looked at him. He went back to cleaning.

"Are you going to eat?" Eris asked after a few moments.

"Not until I'm done with the mirror," Jonathan answered shortly. Eris watched, fascinated as Jonathan stared at the mirror, a wooden stick covered in gold held loosely in the right hand. He was moving it in slow, wavelike motions and, gradually, the mirror returned once again to its previous state. The rest of the furniture, however, still looked as though it was being seen through a pane of distorted, wavy, slightly green glass. It must have felt like that to walk through as well—Eris noticed Jonathan walking slowly and deliberately, with his eyes shut tight, whenever he came in contact with bespelled furniture.

Jonathan was well aware of her gaze on him and, to his surprise, he was no longer furious at her. She was so quiet, so subdued, that he could no more blame Gareth's death on her than he could a mouse. Besides, as he had finally forced himself to admit, Gareth was dead because of him. It had been a mercy killing, but it was still his responsibility. Just because magic had played a cruel trick on him with the dogskin cloak did not mean he had to hate the girl. He was not the sort to hold a senseless grudge. Of course, there was a chance that she was personally repulsive, but Jonathan was willing to withhold judgment on that count for now. Besides, she had brought him food. That was earning her points already.

"Thanks," he said, sitting down beside her and eying the food ravenously. "Aren't you going to eat as well?" he asked, more from habit than anything else.

"No, I have already eaten," she responded. Jonathan shrugged and made short work of the meal. Eris watched him, something he found rather disconcerting. He hated those awkward silences, where something absolutely had to be said to the person sitting next to you but you have absolutely no idea what to say.

"So," he coughed, setting down his serviette and turning to look at his companion, "Lovely weather we've been having lately, don't you think?"

She stared at him blankly for a few moments before replying. "Er, yes, I believe so." Jonathan tried to conceal his amusement as she fumbled for an answer.

"I forgot," he said with a laugh. "You're not English. Whenever we do not know what to say, we default to the weather."

"But it is always raining here," Eris commented, without thinking, "How much can there be to say about rain?"

"The English language was designed to complain," Jonathan answered, "There are endless ways to express how miserable one is; one for whatever level of society or discourse a person is seeking. We live in order to assert that our lives our awful. The Haut Ton, especially, exists purely to show that _my_ miserable life is a better sort of miserable than _your_ miserable life."

Eris laughed at him and he grinned back at her, arching his eyebrow. "If," he began, "I were to ask you about what people complain about where you are from, I have a sneaky suspicion that you will run from me like a frightened doe."

He had her caught there. She could deny that she would, and then he would press her on the subject and she would have to talk. Then again, she could agree, but then… She paused. What would actually happen if she simply laughed and agreed?

"I suppose," she answered him, unable to pull off the laugh, though.

Jonathan winked. "I love being right!" She laughed that time. There was something inexplicable about Jonathan that, if nothing else, kept her there the entire afternoon listening to him expound on whatever topic suited his fancy at a given moment. He was intelligent, which did help, but it was the simple fact that he never asked her for anything. Unlike Abigail, who was solicitous and caring to the point of insanity, Jonathan never once left an awkward opening for her to insert her own information. He was self-centered, arrogant, witty almost to the point of cruelty and Eris found herself wondering if she would be able to track him down on the morrow, purely in the interest of seeing how long it would be until the man ran out of things to say.

The room appeared normal and Jonathan, on checking his pocket-watch, found that it was time to dress for dinner. "So, Milady," he said cheerfully as he rose to his feet, "Will you be joining us tonight for dinner?" Eris shook her head wordlessly. "I'll protect you from Abigail. Besides, no one seems to find me funny when you're not around."

Eris remained firm in her refusal, despite Jonathan's entreaties, which as the days progressed, grew more and more elaborate. Eris found herself waiting in the library for him on a daily basis, hoping that he would come and visit her. He invariably poked his head in about an hour before dinner and talked with her. She would still concede that a good four fifths of the conversation were him speaking and her listening, but she was learning. It helped that she noted the books he was reading and tried to read them as well. In many of those cases, she found herself in way over her head, especially in the magical tomes. Her respect for Jonathan was increasing with every book. The histories, however, were fascinating, especially some of the English ones. The best parts, in Eris's opinion, were the notes in the margins. She wondered whose they were and secretly hoped they were Jonathan's, though if she had to bet, she would say that it was a woman's calligraphy. They said things like "utter drivel, what was Morton thinking?" and "This is what happens when Tudors write Plantagenet history" with certain words like humpbacked and evil underscored numerous times. She kept meaning to ask Jonathan about the notes, but she was still hesitant to admit to perusing his choices.

Jonathan, as it happened, was well aware what she was doing. It amused him to see the way she reacted to him. He found most people amusing, truth be told, but Eris in particular entertained him. He understood her, to the degree any human being can understand another after a month's acquaintance, and saw a kindred spirit. She was not like Diana or Abigail or even of Anthony, who were bold and personable and easily social. Jonathan generally hated people, a trait he persisted in blaming on his father. The real problem was that Jonathan was exceptional at reading other people and spent most of his time getting aggravated at their shallow, self-absorbed, crystal-clear motives. That was why he likes Eris; her motives were simple and pure. He was insatiably curious what had brought her to Gilld Hall, but he was willing to let that lie for now. She would eventually talk. In the meantime, Eris was a friend, something that his personality tended to ensure he have in short supply, and he did not mind the company bordering on hero-worship.

Their friendship was a gradual thing, a cautious step and misstep as both she and Jonathan fought to keep alone. They each wanted to be aloof and separate from the world but, as Jonathan had put, being alone was much pleasanter in good company. And an hour a day with someone who you got along with almost implicitly was easy to enjoy.

One afternoon, Eris was paging through a comparatively simple grimmoire when the door swung open. She had to keep her face from visibly falling when Abigail entered.

"How are you doing?" Abigail inquired. They had grown closer since Eris had come to the castle for the latter could not possibly spend _all_ her time with Jonathan. Abigail was sweet, Eris was more than willing to concede that and she had no objection to her presence. She simply wasn't a favorite.

"Quite well," Eris answered, gesturing for Abigail to come and join her. "What brings you here?"

"The pleasure of your company," Abigail answered. The conversation would have proceeded along the exact same lines with Jonathan, but the tone would have been radically different, calculated to amuse instead of inform. Eris was wondering when she had begun comparing everyone to Jonathan when Abigail caught sight of what she was reading.

"Do you understand this?"

Eris coloured slightly. "Not really, no. I was more interested in seeing just what one could do with magic."

"A lot," Abigail, waving her hand and watching as a book came flying off the shelf and into her outstretched palm.

"What is that?" Eris asked, referring to the book.

"Rubbish," replied Abigail with a laugh. "Its one of the earliest books on magic and is almost entirely wrong. This begs the question of why my mother wishes me to peruse it and, I must admit, I haven't the foggiest idea."

Eris spent a very informative hour as Abigail read the book aloud, explaining the basics of magic as she went along. Eris was fascinated as she heard about wizarding blood and how a wizard can drain himself of almost all power or even enter into a state of magical depletion that they may never recover from, known colloquially as sang-froid. Mages has never really been a part of her daily existence; they had had a court wizard, but she had avoided him as a matter of course. She avoided everyone as a matter of course.

"My mother almost did that her to herself," Abigail continued. Eris looked up in surprise. "Froze her blood, I mean. This was long before I was born, while she and Father were only engaged."

"What was she trying to do?"

"Kill her father-in-law," said Jonathan, poking his head in the door. "We don't much like relatives in this family. Abigail, rumor has it you are supposed to be arranging your toilette for dinner right now."

"I suppose I should thank you for reminding me."

"I'm well aware that you won't, get along with you." She rose gracefully and took a swipe at his head, which he ducked away from, laughing. It had taken Eris time to learn that the Gilld children did love one another, even though the two eldest fought like cats and dogs. She was jealous of them, an emotion she swore she would suppress. She knew she would never have this family and it was not fair to anyone to pretend that she was truly a member of it.

"And you," Jonathan continued, "Will you be gracing the table with your lovely presence tonight?"

"What incentive do you have for me tonight?"

"Well," Jonathan began, drawing an imaginary sword from his side, "I would cross the Mediterranean in naught but a wooden raft, sail a crocodile down the Nile, race across the deadly Sahara desert and ride a lion through the dark jungle to arrive at the legendary castle of the great dragon Whatsisname. I will proceed to slay the mighty dragon, or at least come to an agreement whereby I can convince him that killing me is a very bad idea and he would much rather I rescue you from the highest room of the tallest tower. At which point, we will ride off on the horse that suddenly appears, though I had not mentioned a horse once in this narrative. Then we will board a ship with black sails that will convey us right to Gilld Hall, despite the lack of nearby waterways. All in time for dinner, mind you."

"The great dragon whatsisname?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes, haven't you heard of him? So, fair demoiselle, will you join us?"

She was going to be decisive this time. She was going to bury the past and allow this future of hers to become paramount. For the past month, all she could feel was the terror that somehow they would find her and bring her home. She could not live like that anymore. If that month had taught her nothing else, she had learned that there was so much more to the world than what she had seen before. She was going to forget it all, be born again. She would no longer be Adele Delamater, she was just Eris. And Eris, a young woman without a mysterious past or a reason to be frightened would certainly accept a simple invitation to dinner.

"I suppose I must," she answered finally. "Since you went through all the trouble of negotiating with the dragon for me."

Jonathan bowed, rather surprised. "Then I will see you at dinner."

They each left the library with the odd sensation that they were not entirely in control of their own fate.

_**T.B.C.**_

I know, I did a month in a chapter of exposition. That is a bad thing and, in general, should not be done. This, however, is not a story about Eris's gradual growth into someone self assured enough to have a conversation. If it were, I would be Jane Austen and be doing this rather differently. This is a fairy tale, though, and exciting stuff has to happen soon. And, for exciting stuff to happen, the groundwork for the friendship has to be laid. So that's what this is. Don't worry, things should begin happening soon, though I think only Lizzie and Joshua know what; those two never seem to feel the need to tell _me_ what's going on.

Anyway, thank you to both old and new reviewers who have not given up on me yet. I'll do my best not to fail you again.

- Levana (Damian)


	8. Tale as Old as Time

**Chapter E****ight**

_Tale as__ Old as Time_

Dinner in the Gilld home took two forms. The first, which all the inhabitants found infinitely preferable, was a small affair that involved little preparation and no nice clothing. The second, however, were the formal dinners, held whenever any nobility happened by and needed to meet with the Duke. At the moment, there seemed to be a veritable deluge of earls, counts and lords who were consulting with His Grace for one reason or another.

Eris stood by her door, biting her lip and wondering if she had been out of her mind to agree to this. A small, rational voice was reminding her that this was, after all, only dinner. She had been to hundreds of these in her life, eaten with people who ranked even higher than the Duke. She had nothing to fear from any of these men. Except recognition.

"I look different now," she told herself, examining the figure in the mirror again. She had pretty much eschewed makeup, hoping it would draw notice away from her, but she could not be sure. She was also hoping that none of these lords visiting the Duke would have any reason to connect her with her past. "There's no reason I will get recognized by some English earl who has probably never even been to the Continent."

A gong sounded throughout the palace, calling them all to dinner. Eris looked herself over in the mirror one last time, hated her reflection for its appearance, and then left the room, determined to think about the meal and nothing else.

Jonathan looked around him at the seven assembled lords and children. There were about twenty-five guests present, which was on the small side for a Gilld formal dinner, at least during the season, which it most certainly was not right now. But each of the lords had thought it a good idea to bring their eligible children, in case Jonathan or Abigail had forgotten them since the summer's season in London. Winter was drawing to an end, however, so Jonathan could not blame them for wanting to get out of wherever they had been for the past four months. One could go stir-crazy spending that much time with some of the people in this country. That did not make him any happier to have these people foisted off on him, however.

"Try to look a little happier," Abigail hissed in his ear, coming to stand next to him after having been engaged in conversation with the spotty sixteen year old son of the Marquis of Highbury.

"I am happier, the babies haven't started flirting with me yet." He smiled disarmingly at Abigail, who looked about ready to smack him, and sauntered off to stand beside some of the eldest sons. They stood aside to make room for him and greeted him cordially, yet Jonathan, as always, made no move to join in on the conversation. He listened as they discussed the details of meetings—terrifyingly boring meetings—that had gone on for the past two weeks. The winter had not been a good one and the next one would be even worse of His Majesty's mages could not find a way to temper Nature's anger and restore the animals and grain lost this year.

Jonathan was busy watching their faces. They wanted to be men like their fathers and so they behaved as they thought their fathers should. They would learn, when they had that coveted title bestowed on them, that the men stood around and spoke about wine and wives and watched the teenaged dramas unfold as the girls stood in their own circle, eyes narrowed as they chose their targets. It had always made Joshua laugh, though he had remained largely distant from the group as a teenager.

Jonathan knew, realistically, that he far preferred this upbringing to that his father had. But still, he would do a lot to get rid of these people.

Abigail, who had been watching the door like a hawk, was delighted as she saw Eris make her shy entrance. She turned the head of just about everyone in the room. Abigail went up to greet her, hugging her affectionately and leading her over to a group of girls who were eyeing her with varying degrees of curiosity and hostility.

"This is Eris," Abigail said happily, "She's my uncle, Prince Vincent's second cousin once removed." Eris tried not to let her jaw drop, but she was rather impressed with Abigail's quick thinking. For all her fear of being discovered, she had not thought of a single lie about her origins to tell all these strangers.

The small chit-chat was easy to join in with, though Eris mostly stood there and listened, allowing the other girls to think that she was shy. Abigail helped enormously with this, whispering not-so-quietly that she had been sent to Gilld Hall from the continent to try and rid her of some of her fear of people. All the other girls were quite sweet to her afterwards, especially since shy girls were much less likely to steal the boys away.

The doors opened to the dining hall and Joshua led the way into the next room. Eris watched them go, studying both the Duke and the Duchess. She had rarely seen Lizzie since she had gotten here though Eris was not sure why the Duchess was avoiding her. She had asked Jonathan and his response had been a very startled "Why, did you want to see her?" The answer to that was obvious; she really did not want to see her, leaving Jonathan with a smug look.

They were a handsome couple, nothing to what her parents had been in their day, but still attractive. And they were the most powerful mages in England, which could lend dignity to sackcloth and a hovel, so it was not surprising that everyone watched them and stared.

Eris was woken from her reverie when she felt a hand on her elbow. "May I have the honor of being your escort?" Jonathan asked, winking at her. She bit back a grin and nodded. He took her arm and led her into the dining hall. She found herself seated to the left of the Duke, with her Grace across from her and Jonathan on her right. She had not thought to feel grateful for such an arrangement, but she did not want to be seated with the other children. Abigail winked at her as she went to take her own seat between two men who were obviously enamored of her. Jonathan made a face as she flirted delicately with them.

"They're going to spend the entire meal drooling over her," he grumbled to Eris. "And she has no interest in either of them. Come to think of it, she doesn't care for any of the boys in here."

"She's picky," Lizzie said, catching the eye of her son, "Rather like someone else I know."

"It's a family trait, I believe. Though it seems to have passed over Diana."

Joshua chuckled. "Diana found the one man who knew how to keep his mouth shut, I do not believe one can be pickier than that." He noticed Eris's confused look and explained. "Diana is our eldest daughter, she was married about eight years ago."

"That's a story for another time," Jonathan murmured to her with a smile.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and turned to Joshua, letting Eris try and pressure Jonathan into talking more about his older sister. "Well, what do you think?" she asked in a low voice, knowing that Eris would be well distracted by Jonathan and using a hint of magic just in case.

"About Eris?" he inquired. "She seems nice enough. Shy, but that's to be expected after what she went through."

"We don't know what she went through, dear heart."

"We can make a pretty good guess, darling, as to who she is, where she's from and why she ran away."

"You really think she's Belle's missing princess."

"Of course I do, don't you?"

"I'd rather not speculate overmuch on that. The less I actually know, the less I have to outright lie."

Joshua laughed. "I don't recall that ever bothering you. But aren't you the least bit curious why she ran away from this man. Is he some sort of monster or madman?"

"Joshua, she came to us for protection, so that is what we are going to give her. Not a in-depth look at her past and soul searching. If she wants that, she can come to us. As of now, I don't see that there is anything that needs examining so we let her remain here until she no longer wishes to be here."

"If I press this, I'm going to get a lecture about how we do not play games with people's lives, correct?" Lizzie simply looked at him, words completely unnecessary. "Oh, very well. I'll let our resident mystery lay at rest."

The rest of the evening went very well. Even Eris enjoyed herself, despite her persistent refusal to join Abigail as the center of attention. Jonathan spent more time with her than any other girl in the room, occasioning some jealousy that his younger sister soothed away by asking pointedly how any of them would feel if their cousin and the only person they knew abandoned them among strangers. Privately, Abigail did not think it made much of a different; Jonathan had never had much of a problem standing by the wall and looking cold and aloof.

The night drew to an end and the guests began to make their way back to their rooms. Jonathan caught Eris's arm as she was leaving and said, quietly enough so that only she and the Ducal family could hear, "Will you marry me, Beauty?"

"What!?" Eris nearly shrieked.

"Jonathan!" Abigail shouted at him, clearly upset.

Lizzie laughed and Joshua laid his hand rather firmly on his son's shoulder. "Care to cite your sources?" he asked, his hand tightening perceptibly.

"I would have told her," Jonathan protested, "After and if Abigail ever finished screaming." Eris hid a smile, though she was most certainly waiting for an explanation. It was not that the idea of marrying Jonathan had never crossed her mind before. It had flitted and flirted across once or twice, generally when she was too tired to stop it. But to have him vocalize such thoughts and without any hint of context…well, she was more than a little confused.

"Well?" Eris asked, looking at him.

"On the fourth shelf, on the furthermost bookcase in the library, you will see a battered, leather-bound book. Flip to page one hundred and eighteen and all your questions should be answered." Jonathan grinned at her and kissed her hand before taking his leave.

"Pay no attention to him," Abigail said loudly as he left. "He's just being his usual obnoxious self." Eris, however, was unconvinced. So, instead of going to bed as was expected, she bit back her sleepiness for a few more minutes and made her way towards the library.

The book was not difficult to find; it was the most worn and dog-eared volume on the shelf. She took it down carefully and laughed as she read the title. She had been read that book as a young girl and had enjoyed the story when the authoress was not moralizing. The ending had always disappointed her, however. The idea of Beauty seeing the goodness in the Beast and wedding him for that reason only had always gnawed at her. She had wanted a brave, handsome knight in shining armor to come and sweep her off her feet and into her arms and ride off with her into the sunset. Then she grew a little older and realized that all she really wanted was to get away. Now, she reflected wryly, she would take the Beast over what she had any day.

Eris opened the book and flipped to page one hundred and eighteen. She remembered now, the Beast said those words to Beauty every night before they left the table. She found herself reading a little further down the page and stopped abruptly. This was not the story she had been read as a child. The basic plot was undeniably the same, but the manner of telling, the complete lack of lecturing on a young woman's behavior and even the insight into Beauty's thoughts were all different.

She flipped back to the beginning of the book and noticed words on the title page that she had completely ignored last time. "A retelling of the story of Beauty and the Beast." Intrigued, she sat down in the nearest armchair and began to read. It was the same story, to some degree, and yet everything seemed changed. Beauty's sisters had named and they were not evil at all this time. Everyone had some sort of past, a love of their own. Eris read on, her heart going out to the Huston family as they moved from the city to the strange, magical North.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked a familiar voice, making Eris's head shoot up in alarm.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she said, rising hastily to her feet to curtsey before the Duchess. Lizzie shook her head and motioned for her not to do so.

"Far be it from me to remove an avid reader from her tale," Lizzie said with a smile. "Are you enjoying it?"

"I am," Eris answered. "But it's strange. I have never hears this story told in such a way before. I had thought that Madame Le Prince de Beaumont wrote this story."

"She wrote a version of it," Lizzie answered, "Passed down from time immemorial, as all good fairy tales are. And the stories change as they are told; they morph and are reshaped by the storyteller until they take on a life of their own. Do you believe in fairy tales?"

Eris looked up at the Duchess, nonplussed. "What do you mean, believe?"

"Do you believe they happened?"

Eris shrugged. "I…I had never really thought about it. When I was a child, I had always dreamed of them being real. But they aren't, are they?"

Lizzie just smiled mysteriously and Eris was reminded rather strongly that she was speaking to the Duchess Gilld, one of the most powerful women in the civilized world and, at the moment, the person with the most control over her life. It was just…somehow she seemed less threatening now. After all, someone who loved fairy tales could not be all bad?

"Do you believe in fairy tales?" Eris asked boldly.

"Of course I do. I've lived through them and I've met an enchantress or two in my time." Eris gaped at her. "Don't look so surprised, part of spending a life steeped in magic means that I have more encounters with strange things than you would think.

"Have you ever met Beauty?" Eris couldn't help herself, she was drawn in to what the Duchess had to say. All her childhood fantasies about being rescued were resurrected with these words. She had, lately, been believing that all the world could offer were cruel men and evil women, but things were changing now. And if her Grace, the Duchess Gilld could believe in such things, then why should they not be true.

"I have met a Beauty," Lizzie answered. "There are many of them, throughout the world." She smiled. "Sometimes, the story is stretched farther than others and you need to look harder. Other times, well, it is just like the tales say. One of my Beauty's story is the latter."

"Would you tell it to me?" Eris asked, feeling rather shy.

"Oh, I think I can arrange that. Not tonight; it's generally not considered conducive to story telling to stop in the middle for sleep. Unless one is in danger of losing her head, in which case it is highly recommended."

Eris looked at her, confused. "When you finish these tales, I will give you some more and you will understand me then."

"Lizzie, my love," called the Duke's voice from the door. "You did say something about only being gone for a moment to find a book."

Lizzie smiled sheepishly at Eris. "I was distracted, dear."

"That goes without saying," Joshua said with a sigh, "You did set foot in a library."

Lizzie's eyes roamed the nearby shelf for a moment, then she snatched a volume off the shelf. "This was what I had come for," she explained. "Now I'm off to prove my darling husband wrong." She left the room, flipping through the book and muttering to herself.

Eris stared after her, unable to believe what had just happened. Somehow, she could never have pictured having that conversation with the Duchess. The woman seemed so…aloof and majestic and not the sort of person who would wander into the library at night in a turquoise dressing gown with embroidered silver wolves in search of a book to gainsay her husband. She would never have guessed Lizzie to be a lover and believer in fairy tales. She was beginning to wonder about the rest of the Gillds. Jonathan had certainly proved to be far better than her first impressions of him and she could not think of anyone whose company she liked more. Abigail was also a kind and considerate friend to her, someone she could rely on and turn to for advice. Advice was something Abigail always had. And Anthony did not interact with her much, except when trying to steal Jonathan away to go horseback riding, when he would tease them both mercilessly. She liked the Gilld children, enjoyed being with them and liked the way they made her feel about the world. Perhaps she was misjudging the parents, in being frightened of them. She resolved to get to know Lizzie a little better, at least spend enough time to learn another story of Beauty and the Beast from her.

Joshua was trying to walk and read over Lizzie's shoulder as she paged through the book in search of corroborative evidence for her earlier claim about obscure fourteenth century magical practices. It turned out that the book was not esoteric enough and there was no evidence which of them was right.

"Can we continue this quest for truth tomorrow?" Joshua asked, stifling a yawn.

"You just don't want to find out you're wrong," Lizzie teased.

"Oh, there's no danger of that," Joshua answered, tapping her on the nose. "But if you want to keep looking, be my guest. I'm going to bed." He stretched out under the covers and counted to five. By that number, Lizzie had curled up next to him with her head resting on his arm. He smiled and draped his other arm over her and buried his face in her hair.

"You're in an affectionate mood tonight," she murmured, twining their fingers together.

"I'm not allowed to be in love with you?" Joshua asked innocently.

"Of course you are. It's just when you're being sweet enough to frighten everyone other than me away that I start to worry."

Joshua laughed at her. "Silly Lizzie. Remind me tomorrow, I have to discuss summer plans with you."

"If I remember tomorrow, I will," she answered. "Now hush and let me sleep."

"I thought you weren't tired."

"I never said that, I am tired. But triumph over you is more important than sleep."

"Impudent wench," Joshua said with a chuckle.

"Hush."

"Oh, very well."

"Joshua…"

"You continued it that time, not me."

"You always have to have the last word, don't you?"

"Yes."

The room was silent. Joshua grinned to himself and laid his head down on the pillow.

"Too bad," Lizzie murmured, kissing his hand and going to sleep.

_**T.B.C.**_

Hello. I apologize to all my wonderful readers for not replying to your reviews. That does not mean I don't cherish them and adore receiving them. It just means that my time is…limited, to say the very least. So this is a broad thank you to all of you for coming back or reading anew. I love you all and am profoundly grateful for each and every one of you. 

The version of Beauty and the Beast that Eris gets her hands on is, of course, Robin McKinley's first retelling thereof, _Beauty_. Yes, I'm well aware it did not exist then. If Disney can play games with chronology, I can too. Also a slight in-joke for those of you who have read that book (highly recommended to anyone who liked Disney's BATB) and remember the library in it.

Anyway, have fun!  
Levana (Damian) 


	9. Revelations, Ch IX

**Chapter 9**

_Revelations, Ch. IX_

Carriages, somehow, have become notorious as excellent places to sulk. Jonathan could recall numerous stories of both heroes and heroines who turned their backs on their traveling companions in order to pointedly stare out the window. In fact, he was fairly sure that his parents had spent many a ride doing just that. For some reason, it did not seem to be working for him. Perhaps it had something to do with Anthony's elbow, which would end up in the small of his back every time the boy moved. It might have been Abigail though; who had learned that giving her older brother the silent treatment was not half as torturous as simply talking to him. Or it might have been Eris, who was sitting quietly in the opposite corner of the carriage and resolutely staring out the other window. It was another thing they had in common—they were both completely opposed to this trip to London.

Jonathan, upon hearing that they would be traveling out for the season, stormed off to the library to find solace in either a book or throwing every pillow from every divan onto the floor. Eris, of course, had walked in while he was about two thirds of the way through the latter process.

"Don't give me that look," Jonathan groaned, slumping down on the nearest couch and glaring up at Eris. "It makes you look like my mother."

"Don't be absurd, I look nothing like the Duchess. I am far less intimidating."

Jonathan chuckled. "I take it you're as pleased as I am about this little sojourn."

Eris nodded emphatically. "I've grown fond of Gilld Hall—it's become almost like home to me."

"Do you ever miss your home?" Jonathan asked curiously.

A month earlier, such a question would have made Eris yelp and run for cover. Now, however, she felt up to answering it with just the hint of a tremor in her tone. "No. I hope I never return."

Jonathan shrugged. "Suits me fine, I've grown to like having you around."

A month ago, she would have had no idea how to respond. Then again, Jonathan would never have said such a thing. It was amazing how much could change in so little time. "I'm glad," she replied. "There are times when I wish to never leave Gilld Hall."

They settled into companionable silence, neither one willing to spend what would, undoubtedly be their last few hours of peace on lamenting their fate. After all, they were unlikely to get much sympathy from any other quarters.

Ever since the Duke and Duchess had announced to their children and houseguest that they would be going to London for the season, Abigail had been trying to convince the others to be as excited as she was. This was to be her first season out in London and she planned to enjoy it. After all, she knew that her position as a scion of the house of Gilld meant that she did not have to set her mind to finding a great catch. She _was_ the greatest catch to be out this year, especially since the royal princesses were seven and four respectively. Her mother had given her a comparatively stern lecture almost immediately after Abigail had first heard the news and raced upstairs to find her wardrobe totally unsuitable.

"I know what you're thinking," Lizzie had said, sitting down on a stool and facing her daughter's back.

"That I look hideous in lilac and you promise not to buy me another dress in that color ever again?" Abigail suggested sweetly.

"No..." Lizzie answered, chuckling, "Though you have my word about the lilac. You're thinking that this will be the perfect time to stop being the good child."

Abigail turned around slowly. "Mother, I will always be the good child. Just _look_ at Jonathan!"

"You are in a unique position among the Ton," Lizzie continued. "Unlike the rest of the young women out there, you do not need to make a great match. A good one would certainly be advisable, but you are not advancing your place in society or saving your family from ruin or anything else that may appear in those novels I've seen you reading."

"And how do you know what's in them?" Abigail challenged.

Lizzie shrugged. "I've read them, of course. Not, however, while I was in the process of researching information vital to my survival as a mage."

And there went that snappy retort, Abigail thought. "So what are you warning me about?"

"Sweetheart, you've always been on your best behavior here. In London, however, you will be abiding by a whole different set of rules. The Gilld family name will survive no matter what you do. Your reputation, however, will not. I would not like to see you make the mistake of assuming that you are invulnerable simply because your blood is both blue and magical."

"Mother," Abigail said with an exasperated sigh, "What do you think I'm going to do—run off with the most disreputable rake I can find and show up four month's later on your doorstep heavy with child?"

"Third most disreputable," Lizzie answered. "The first two are rather old and drunk. As I was saying, magic gives you the tools to get out of most situations that could ruin a girl. Of course, if you're caught using magic on another human being without permission—"

"The aggrieved party can drag me up before the greatest mage in the land and, I know, Father will not go easy on me because I'm his daughter. Mother, is this really what you're worried about?"

Lizzie smiled and rose to her feet. "You want perfection, Abigail, and can't help but try for it in yourself and in others. You're not obsessed with clothing, but look how perfect your wardrobe is. What happens when you meet a man who is almost perfect? Will you let him go because he's not good enough? Or will you try to change him? And when you can't by ordinary means, will you learn to live with him or will you leave him?" Lizzie paused, then continued, "Or will you change him?"

Abigail met her mother's gaze. "When I fall in love," she said quietly, "It will be with the perfect man. Not a manufactured one, but with someone who I cannot imagine any other way than how he is. You don't have to worry, Mother, I will keep the scandals to the bare minimum. Now, about that perfect wardrobe you mentioned..?"

That perfect wardrobe was, at the moment, packed carefully away and secured to the carriage in which they now traveled towards London. It was the reason or rather the excuse that, despite Jonathan's insistence, they were not flying to their destination. The reason was, of course, Anthony, and they all knew it. There was also the profligate waste of magic it would take simply to take two days off their travel time. In any case, Jonathan was not in the least bit pleased to be cooped up with his siblings for another day.

Eris, on the other hand, did not mind the accommodations. She would be perfectly happy if they could stay in the coach for the rest of the season. Going down for dinner had been one thing, but facing the entire British aristocracy, one of whom must be able to recognize her, was simply too much. She was almost tempted to tell the Duchess why she was so desperate to remain hidden, but simply could not bring herself to do so. Though Eris had come to the conclusion that her Grace was not as terrifying as she had thought, she was not yet comfortable with the woman. And she doubted Lizzie would like what she had to tell.

Jonathan survived the rest of the journey by glaring at his brother, who was deeply immersed in Swift's "Gulliver's Travels" and was paying him no attention. Anthony, unlike his older brother, had no trouble whatsoever with carriage sickness and could read while traveling with no problem at all. Abigail finally managed to draw Eris out and the two of them quickly began dissecting the story of Scheherazade, which Eris had recently finished reading.

The rest of the cavalcade arrived at the Gilld townhouse in time for tea. Lizzie and Joshua had arrived an hour before their children, which was fortunate, as it allowed them to descend with some order on a house already occupied.

Jonathan disembarked first, staggering gracelessly out of the carriage.

"Uncle Jonny!" screamed an excited voice as a small meteor of fine wool and petticoats launched herself from the front stoop and into Jonathan's arms.

"Hello Ariel," he said, kissing the little girl on the forehead and hugging her. "Did you miss me?"

She nodded her head. "I've been waiting and waiting for days."

"Have you now?"

"Uh huh. Except when I wasn't"

Jonathan laughed and set the little girl down to go and greet her other uncle and aunt. Eris watched him from the window, chuckling softly. Of course it would be Jonathan who got along best with the infants, he practically was one.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, staring up at Eris, who wanted nothing more than to back away from such a piercing gaze, even though it came from a child who could not possibly be more than six. It would have helped had the girl not possessed the same eyes as the Duchess, her grandmother.

"My name is Eris," she stammered, "A pleasure to meet you."

Ariel curtsied gracefully for one of so tender an age. "I'm Ariel. What are you doing here?"

"She's our guest," Jonathan called to her. "Let's go inside." The young girl agreed and turned away from the carriage, taking Jonathan's hand and leading him inside. Anthony and Abigail followed, calling questions out to Ariel as to the welfare of the rest of her family. Eris watched them go. The servants were occupied in taking the numerous boxes and trunks off the carriage and into the house and, well, the Gilld children were equally occupied with their relatives.

The strangeness of the London street had managed to draw Eris's attention. She had been born and raised on one of her father's country estates and, even when they lived in the main palace, she was almost never allowed into the city proper. This place, with its tall buildings and narrow streets was as strange as the woods into which she had first run away.

"Will you be coming out any time soon?" asked a voice from behind Eris, making her jump. "Only the servants wish to put the carriage away and are rather convinced they should wait for you to exit first." The Duke smiled and extended his hand to Eris.

She accepted it gracefully, if not gratefully. "Don't worry Eris," he said with an affectionate smile. "This may seem like a whole new place, but it is still populated almost entirely by Gillds. Admittedly," Joshua reflected, "There aren't that many people who would find that statement encouraging, but I rather feel that you have developed a fondness for this family. The reverse can certainly be said."

"Your Grace, I-"

"Would be even more grateful had you not decided to come to London for the season," Joshua finished for her. "You worry too much, Eris. There is more magical power in this house than anywhere else in London and I guarantee that every single person here is concerned with your safety. We will not let anything happen to you."

This was the first time the Duke himself had referred to that strange set of circumstances that had brought her to their door. Eris had been wondering if he even remembered what had happened. She managed to hide her sigh of relief that the Duke had at least considered her predicament, though she still would have preferred they not be here in the first place.

Joshua led her indoors, where she found herself being introduced to the rest of the Duke's family. Diana, the eldest of Gills children and now the Marchioness of Schoefield, greeted her warmly. Eris had, after many stubborn insistences, managed to drag the story of Diana and Anduin out of Jonathan. She had not believed him at the beginning, but he was persistent and both the Duke and the Duchess confirmed it. It would not have surprised her to find that Jonathan was playing an elaborate prank, but she could not imagine the Duke and Duchess joining in. On looking at Diana, who resembled her mother in build, but had her father's eyes, she wondered anew just how much of the story was real.

"I'm so glad you came, Eris," said Diana, taking her arm and leading her slightly away from the group, which consisted mostly of the younger children accosting their aunt, uncles and grandparents. "Let me show you around the house—everyone else already knows where things are."

They wandered around, making polite small talk, while Diana tried to draw the young woman out. Eris liked Diana who she saw as a less terrifying version of her mother and a less insensitive Abigail. Her kindly nature and openness gave Eris a chance to ask, once and for all, how the story of Diana's marriage really went.

"I assume Jonathan told you the version with the merman and the voice and the destruction of evil, right?" Diana shook her head. "Of course he did, it's the more interesting one."

"So it's not true?"

"I never said that, I merely said it was the better story. No, that one's true all right. Eris, don't look so shocked. You've met my family, do you really think I would take the easy road to marriage when there was such a nice, complicated one around?"

Eris stared at her, flabbergasted. After a moment or two, she asked the first question to enter her mind. "If your husband was a merman, how can he also be the Marquis of Schoefield?"

"After the events of that summer and the King's coronation, Harry knighted my husband and promptly granted him the title and lands that had belonged to the Marquis of Schoefield before the latter committed treason and had his body scattered to the four winds." Diana chuckled. "From what I've heard, he was not a nice man. Anyway, it gave Anduin enough consequence for me to accept his suit."

Eris smiled at that, she rather had the impression that a Gilld did whatever he or she wanted and hang the consequences.

"Speaking of which," Diana continued, "Do you have designs on my brother?" Eris stopped dead in her tracks. "Abigail would consider it a horrible breach of friendship to ask you, undoubtedly because her response would be along the lines of 'Have you no sense whatsoever,' and my mother doesn't really want to scare you any more than she already does-"

"She doesn't _scare_ me," Eris protested, latching on to the only thing in that sentence she could conceivably respond to, "Much."

"Of course not," Diana said patronizingly. "Either way, I can tell we're all dying to know."

There was absolute silence in the hallway. Diana sighed. "So, I'll take that as a yes unless you'd like to correct me?"

Slowly turning a furious crimson, Eris shook her head. "Excellent," Diana said happily. "From what I've been told about your effect on him, I think it's a brilliant idea."

"You do?" Eris exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"Of course I do. You seem like a nice young woman and Jonathan is actually well behaved around you and cares for you. Why wouldn't it be a good idea? Oh look, we're at the dining hall and everyone's already here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Eris." Diana walked calmly away, waving cheerfully to a red headed man with a lap full of infant who Eris had to guess was Anduin, Marquis of Schoefield.

"Eris," Jonathan called out as soon as he noticed her enter the room, "Where have you been?"

Eris felt a blush rise slowly in her cheeks once again and fought bravely not to turn too red. "You sister has been showing me around," she muttered, hoping Jonathan would not notice anything was wrong. Fortunately, he was male enough in that respect and nothing out of the ordinary struck him as she took the seat next to his at the table.

"Ah, so you have met Diana. She's my favorite sister." His voice, as he had anticipated, carried far enough for Abigail to overhear.

"She seemed very nice," Eris hazarded. "Although…"

"Was she having some fun at your expense?" Jonathan asked worriedly.

"A little," Eris acknowledged.

"I'll talk to her about that," Jonathan promised. "Only I'm allowed to do such things."

Eris laughed and immediately blushed again. Diana had been right, she did like Jonathan quite a bit. And it seemed that his sisters, at least, approved of her. The idea of him as a beau was not a new one to Eris's imagination and she thought back to the many times she had pictured Jonathan in the role of a suitor, only to have dismissed it as pure fantasy. A small smile graced her lips as the idea of Jonathan asking for her hand. She wondered, though, if she had the courage to fall in love with Jonathan.

Unbeknownst to her, Jonathan had been considering the idea of Eris as a potential wife for quite some time. His joking proposal of marriage two weeks earlier had started the train of thought, but the longer he pondered it, the more sense it seemed to make. After all, the two of them got along wonderfully, especially when Abigail was not getting in the way. And she was beautiful and mysterious and laughed at his jokes and just seeing her smile was enough to brighten his day and…Jonathan's spoon fell out of his hand and clattered onto his plate.

Eris turned around, startled out of her own reverie, to stare at Jonathan. He was gazing down at the spoon as if it held all the mysteries of the universe, albeit upside down. "Are you alright?" she asked him, as this was odd behavior even by Jonathan's standards.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with a broad grin on his face. "Never been better."

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – I'm starting to feel hideously guilty writing those three letters, Because, honestly, I do plan to finish this and I now have a decent idea of what is going on. (They tell you over and over again to know the entire plot outline before you start writing. To sensible people like that, I say Ha! I like to be surprised. Though I've never know so little about what was going to happen as when I started this story. I know what had to happen, but not _how_, if you get my drift. Anyway, I think that's mostly cleared up by now. So we'll see from here and to everyone who has come back and read this after my prolonged absence – mere words cannot express my gratitude. And to any new readers…welcome aboard! Please hound the author so that she will get work done!

2nd A/N – For those of you who recognize the name, the Marquis of Schofield is from Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer's _Sorcery and Cecelia_. It's an adorable book set in regency times that combines magic, manners and two (as far as I'm concerned) gorgeous sarcastic men in cravats. I'm a sucker for those.


	10. Tempting Fate

**Chapter 10**

"_The English Novel is a book in which two people fall in love and then argue with each other for four hundred pages."_

"Diana," Lizzie said, tapping her eldest daughter on her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Diana asked, occupied in watching her daughters, Ariel and Sylvia, attempt to negotiate over whose turn it was to be kissed goodnight first.

"What did you think of our latest houseguest?"

"She's delightful," Diana answered honestly. "Quiet, well-spoken, tolerant of our idiosyncrasies and head over heels in love with my little brother, though she's only begun to realize that."

Lizzie laughed and sat down next to Diana. The two of them had retired to the nursery along with the young children, ostensibly to read them a bedtime story, but mostly to talk.

"I'm glad you agree with me, then. I was thinking that Eris and Jonathan could chaperone Abigail, forcing him out in public to see, be seen and be dismissed as taken?"

"Sounds like an excellent plan to me. You were right, by the way. She is the missing princess."

"Can you be sure?"

"I spoke to Aunt Belle about when last she was here and she was able to show me a picture of the missing Princess's mother. She looks exactly like Eris, albeit a little more…bright, brilliant? As if there's so much life in there, the picture could not possibly hold it. In stark contrast, we have our Eris who seems rather tired and washed out."

"If you spent two months on the run, without any magic, what would you look like?"

"Animal droppings," Diana answered ruefully, "Knowing my propensity for attracting trouble. Are you sure it's a good idea to have her loose in London?"

Lizzie sighed and rested her chin in one hand. "Not really. Unfortunately, it's the only way I can think of to draw her husband or father or both out of hiding. I've thought of going over to France and giving them a piece of my mind myself, but they're one of the provinces that does not think well of England and would consider a visit by the Anglican mages to be completely unnecessary...especially if it turns out they've hurt Eris in some way."

"You're afraid of what Jonathan will do?"

"I'm afraid there won't be anything left after I finish with him for Jonathan to do anything to."

"She does rather need someone to take up her cause, doesn't she?"

Lizzie nodded. "Which is why it makes sense to lure her suitor out here. That way Jonathan can confront the man, the marriage can be annulled and everyone can live happily ever after for a few hours until Abigail manages to do something spectacular."

"Space out the catastrophes?"

"That's the goal, Diana. Do you think we're right?"

"That Eris and Jonathan belong together? Yes. And if we're wrong, what should we be doing instead to help Eris?"

Lizzie had to concede that Diana had a point. "There's no chance of this backfiring in our faces, is there?" Mother and daughter stared at one another, then started laughing.

"Shall we return to the adults?" Diana asked, taking a deep breath.

"We should indeed," Lizzie responded. The two women kissed the girls goodnight at exactly the same time, as the argument had still not been resolved, then walked, heads held high, back down to where dessert was just being served and rejoined the rest of the family.

News spread fast through London and, early the next morning, everyone who was anyone knew that the Gillds were back in residence. Abigail already received a number of young women interested in sizing up the competition and getting a good look at the heir to the Duchy in the process. Jonathan, who resisted the idea of being put on display with a vengeance, was determined to avoid the women who came to visit. Besides, he had plans of his own. Not that anyone seemed to pay his plans any attention.

Jonathan knocked on the door to his father's study.

"Come in," Joshua called. Jonathan slunk in. "Hiding from the legions of womenfolk already?" Joshua asked shrewdly.

"Lord, yes," his son answered, taking a seat by the windowsill. Joshua turned his chair around to face him.

"You do know how to get rid of them, don't you?" he said, watching Jonathan's eyes light up at the words.

"How? And does it involve rat poison, because I heard that sort of thing works on all types of vermin-"

"Sadly, no. My way is a little more subtle and far less likely to land you in prison." Jonathan sighed disappointedly. "You see, your sister needs a chaperone tonight. She has already been invited to tonight's grand event. Earl someone-or-other's daughter is being presented to society and Abigail is quite anxious to, er, go and nearly outshine her?"

"Abigail said that?" Jonathan interrupted.

"No, of course not. Your sister's far too refined. I merely extrapolated. As I was saying, she needs someone to keep an eye on her and make sure she stays away from anyone who looks too disreputable."

"My keen intuition is telling me that you want me for this job."

"Your keen intuition is correct. Your mother and I are too old to go gallivanting off in society-" Jonathan snorted, clearly not believing a word his father was saying. Joshua looked at him mildly, as if daring Jonathan to contradict him. "And I believe Anduin and Diana would like to spend some time with us and the children. Anthony, of course, is far too young…"

"Which leaves me. Tell me, Father, exactly how is this going to keep the young women from flocking to me like demented seagulls?"

"Simple. Take another woman along with you. They'll be far too busy gossiping with one another about your mysterious lady to pay _you_ any attention."

"Eris will not like that idea."

"She'll have to spend time in society again sooner or later," Joshua answered philosophically. "Why should she not do it with you around to protect her? You're more than capable."

"If I say no?"

"Were you planning on saying no?"

Jonathan sighed. That was Ducal-speak for you had better not be planning on saying anything other than yes, of course Father.

"I will do it. But I won't enjoy it."

"A chance to snub every woman in the room, if you so choose? I would enjoy it." Joshua waved to his son, then turned the chair back around in order to continue the work that Jonathan had interrupted. Jonathan, knowing a dismissal when he saw one, rose to his feet and left the room.

What Joshua had neglected to mention and what was currently very much on Jonathan's mind was how Eris would react to being asked to accompany them. He knew she had the strength to come with him and show them all just what he was actually looking for in a woman. The question was whether or not he could convince her to go out and do so. A slow smile spread across his face as he walked down the halls. His father's idea was, barring Eris's feelings on the subject, a spectacular way for him to make his feelings known to her. Of course, said feelings had only truly made themselves known to him the previous evening. He had had a sneaking suspicion that he was falling for Eris, but last night confirmed it. Jonathan had expected the realization of affection to be something a little more dramatic—a sudden moment when something wonderful happened and he would know, without a shadow of doubt, that she was the one. Angels with trumpets would have been nice, but not necessary. Instead, all Eris did was sit down next to him and smile at him, the same smile as always, and he felt as though the world had suddenly refocused itself and she was the epicenter.

The dawning comprehension of his feelings had lasted until he fell asleep. When Jonathan woke up in the morning, it was with a renewed spring in his step. He was in love and more than amenable to the idea. After all, he saw how well he and Eris got along as friends and, in retrospect, there was certainly romantic tension beneath many of their teasing encounters. It would undoubtedly be simple to convince her that she had _some_ feelings for him. Jonathan kept his brain occupied in this vein as he made his way down the hall. He was unwilling to think any further than that. Love was not the sort of thing one could be rational about—it was too huge, too sudden and too overwhelming. So Jonathan was dealing with it in the time honored fashion of ignoring all those parts completely and looking at love as simply companionship between two amiable people. And love looked at thus had far less room for heartbreak and Jonathan knew full well what would happen if he fell too far without Eris along to catch him.

So his goal was to find a way to bring her along for the ride. And in pursuit of that goal, he rapped gently on her door.

"Who is it?"

"The most magnificent man in the house."

Eris pulled open the door, saying "Hello, Anthony."

Jonathan chuckled and stepped in. "I should be insulted by such a greeting."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I cannot fathom the reason why." She fought hard not to smile. What was it about Jonathan that brought this out in her? She was still somewhat quiet and shy with the rest of the Gillds, but Jonathan? She treated him…well, like the Duchess treated the Duke. "What brings you to my door?"

"A humble request. You're not going to like it."

"Oh?"

"I'm going to ask you to accompany me to Lady Theresa's coming out ball tonight."

"I'm going to say no."

"She's the daughter of the Earl of…Swindonne, I believe," Jonathan continued.

Eris glared at him. "And that's going to convince me to come along?"

"Look, my father is forcing me to chaperone Abigail. You would be doing England an enormous service by preventing me from decapitating all her future nobility."

"Surely some would survive without my mitigating influence?"

"Yes, all the ones who have yet to enter society. And then my father will glare pointedly at me. And possibly sneer. Eris, it is a fate worse than death!"

She laughed despite herself. "Jonathan, please. What if someone sees me?"

"They'll think 'Heavens above, I haven't a chance with Lord Jonathan, why don't I go and complain to my friends about it and not bother him'."

"No, they'll think 'who is that mysterious girl?' I don't want to be noticed, Jonathan. What if they recognize me?"

"As what, exactly?"

"For who I really am, you idiot!"

"Who you really are, Eris, is a guest in the house of Gilld. Any history you might have is forgotten, which you should know by now!"

"And someone from that forgotten history appears to drag me home? What will you do then, oh wonderful host of mine?"

"Beat the thrice doubled damned twit to a bloody pulp before he manages to get two steps, what do you think I would do? You think I can't protect you, you know I can! Or do you think that I won't?"

"That's funny. From here it seems like you're just using me so that you don't have to deal with all the young women fawning all over you. Why would you care what happens to me?" The words were out before Eris even knew it. She wanted to bite them back; she knew Jonathan cared about her. The two of them were friends now and she knew he would be loyal. She was just so confused about what she wanted. Part of her was even thinking it would be worth being discovered if it meant being mistaken for Jonathan's.

"Because I care about you," Jonathan hissed. "Eris, I would never suggest this if I thought you were in any danger! Do you really think so little of me?"

"No, Jonathan, I didn't mean tha-"

"Then what did you mean?"

She sighed. "I just…I…forget about it. I'll come with you."

"I wouldn't want to force you to do anything you do not want to do," Jonathan responded, his voice poisonously sweet.

"I'll see you tonight," Eris snapped back. "Now get out of my room."

"As my lady commands." He stepped out of the room and, in the middle of a mocking bow to her, the door was slammed in his face.

They each leaned against opposite sides of the door and groaned softly, thinking that their encounter could certainly have gone better.

Lunch was a private affair and consisted of Jonathan sulking in his room and wondering about the possibly of adapting "A Modest Proposal" to apply to all women between the age of fifteen and twenty-five. Eris, however, had gone to Abigail's room to tell her she would be coming along with them. Abigail was ecstatic.

"I'm so happy you decided to come out of your shell," she said, giving Eris a quick hug. Diana, who had elected to spend some quality time with her little sister by helping choose her attire, smiled warmly at Eris, who smiled back and only blushed a little. "The two of us will make enough of a splash to turn the Ton on its head."

"You're mixing your metaphors, my dear," Diana murmured. "And I somehow doubt that Eris is as anxious as you to have every eligible and ineligible male in London falling at her feet."

Abigail glared at her sister. "Don't be silly, what use have I for the eligible ones?"

"Didn't Mother warn you about tainting the Gilld name?" Diana asked resignedly.

"Yes, she told me I couldn't do it."

"And you seem out to prove her wrong."

Abigail just smiled. Diana and Eris shared a look, both knowing full well that Abigail would do nothing of the sort. The boys of the Ton were about to suffer an epidemic of unrequited love, but nothing worse.

"So," Abigail continued, "What should I wear tonight? Then we can move on to Eris's wardrobe."

"Oh, I don't need to impress anyone-"

"Yes, but it will keep Abigail occupied," Diana interrupted. "Besides, you do want to look your best? After all, you would be far more noticeable if you took care _not_ to dress up than if you were a beautiful, poised, young woman." She winked at Eris, who suddenly realized what Diana was hinting towards. The girl whose first appearance was in a dirty, matted fur cloak could be transformed into a great beauty. The thought of being even prettier than her mother flitted dangerously across her mind, only to be replaced with the image of Jonathan's jaw dropping. Perhaps she did want to impress someone after all.

They spent the next hours cheerfully examining Abigail's dresses. After all, Abigail wanted to look stunning without appearing to have tried too hard. It was considered tacky, Diana noted, to actively try and outshine a girl at her own coming-out party. However, out-shining everyone else simply by dressing well was allowed, or so Diana and Eris opined. So Abigail eventually chose a deep blue, which was a color that suited her admirably and brought out her eyes nicely, with a pale gold petticoat trimmed lace underneath. As Joshua had once remarked, it was sacrilegious for a Gilld to venture out in public without any gold on their clothes. Abigail smiled as she left her room, confident that four hours would provide ample time to prepare, even if it took them an hour to find the perfect dress for Eris.

It took them half that time. The modiste had done an excellent job in her choice of color and style and even Eris, who had grown up as Princess with a fashion conscious mother, was impressed. It was clear to Diana that Eris would look lovely in a soft pink that accented the paleness of her skin without making her look too white.

"Lucky girl," Abigail murmured, "You'll need no powder whatsoever to conform to style."

"The green is the best," Eris said doubtfully.

"Of course it is, so we shall save that for a night when you have to look your absolute best." Diana smiled. "Now, since you're a guest of ours, I suggest the gold trimmed petticoat just to make a point."

"I don't think I can thank the Duchess properly for all this," Eris whispered, running her hands over the soft fabric.

"She knows you're grateful," Abigail answered. "Besides, she likes you and would aid you in finding happiness any way she can."

It was soon time for Diana and Abigail to leave in order to track down the youngest denizens of the townhouse and prepare for the night out respectively. As she bathed, Eris smiled to herself. Even with her trepidation, she had not felt this happy in years. She had never been to a ball with a friend before, had never wanted to impress a man with her looks before. The other times, it had just happened and made her wish for nothing more than to be a hideous old hag. But now, now she was proud of her long, pale locks and her luminous skin.

The servants dressed her carefully and her hair was piled atop her head, carefully styled so it looked precariously close to tumbling down around her face without ever quite doing so. She looked at herself critically in the mirror; surprised at the woman she saw staring back. She was so used to seeing a miniature of her mother that the woman gazing back at her startled her. She no longer looked quite like her mother; there was something different. It made her grin happily; it felt wonderful to be out of her mother's shadow.

A knock on the door startled her slightly out of her reverie. "Who is it?" she called.

"Her Grace sent me," came the not-quite answer as a woman of about fifty entered the room. She was dressed nicely, although not extravagantly, and Eris seemed to remember her as one of the Duchess's maids. "My name is Allisande," she said with a polite curtsey. "My mistress thought you might need some jewels to go with your gown and has asked that you wear these."

Allisande flipped open the box she was carrying and Eris gasped. Not even her own mother had possessed such a gorgeous collection of gems. Allisande carefully lifted out a necklace of rose quartz and clasped it around Eris's neck. It was accompanied by two rosy pearls in each ear and a golden bracelet studded with the same stones as the necklace.

"They suit you perfectly," Allisande remarked, sounding quite pleased. She added to herself, "Her Grace was right, she will stop Lord Jonathan dead in his tracks."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, my Lady. I hope you enjoy the ball tonight."

"I do too," Eris added, slightly wistfully.

Allisande looked her square in the eye. "You may not have been born a Gilld, but you have the strength of character and will to be just as strong as the Duchess. I can see that in you, as sure as I can see how beautiful you are. Never forget that."

Stunned, Eris watched the older woman exit the room. She took one last look at her self in the mirror and, repeating Allisande's words like a mantra, stepped out of the room and strode down to where she knew Jonathan and Abigail awaited. She was Eris now, and strong enough to do anything. Even impress that insufferably wonderful Jonathan Gilld.

Jonathan, who was lounging by the entrance, had to admit that Abigail looked lovely in her gown. One tended to forget that younger sisters were attractive, but he was realizing that this night would not be that easy. The gentlemen of the Ton would be queuing up to get a good look at his baby sister and he was going to make sure their eyes did not stray too far. After all, she might an utter annoyance, but she was his utter annoyance and he was not going to let anyone else say a word against her.

"Eris," Abigail cried suddenly, making Jonathan stand up straight and turn to see the newcomer. "You look fantastic!"

Jonathan's jaw dropped. The majestic creature gliding towards him was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Eris was resplendent in pale pink and gold, her hair falling just so around her face and her dress accenting a lovely figure that made Jonathan sure he was the envy of all the men in the world that he would have such a woman on his arm. "Good Lord," he said finally, as she looked at him anxiously for approval. "I think I'll have to bring a real sword with me simply to make sure no other man comes near the two of you."

Abigail laughed. "Jonathan, don't be absurd. What's the point of going if I don't get to flirt with the poor boys."

"Fine, you do what you want. But heaven help the man who comes near Eris."

She grinned shyly. "You like it?"

"I've never seen a more beautiful lady in my life," Jonathan answered truthfully. "And I apologize for this morning, Eris. I was terrified of facing those legions of daughters alone."

"Apology accepted. I'm sorry too, I-"

"Was too gracious and didn't want to reduce every man who can see you to a drooling, gibbering wreck?" Eris laughed and Jonathan shrugged philosophically. "Shall we be off, my lovely ladies?"

He offered an arm to each of them and Abigail, who was rather flabbergasted at her brother's sudden show of gallantry and good behavior, allowed herself to be handed into the carriage without so much as a peep. It was, Jonathan thought, an auspicious beginning to what could prove to be an excellent night.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – Well. I'm stubborn. I suppose that counts for something. Onward and upward dear readers, the plot is about to thicken (i.e. re-emerge from my love affair with 18th and 19th century England). And, for those who are wondering, I'm butchering history a bit to fit my needs. The style is Georgian, the setting would be around the 1780s and the French Revolution never happens in this world. France never united into one common state, it remained first a bunch of Duchies, then the Dukes became Princes. Our Beast was one of five of these princes. France finally unites under Napoleon, but that is about thirty years in the future, so never you mind. This is just the historical-fantasy note for those of you who are mildly curious. Oh, and the Earl of Swindonne is, of course, a nod to Jasper Fforde's excellent series, beginning with _The Eyre Affair_. I figure if I recommend at least one book per chapter, you are all bound to read something. I love you all for coming back to read and, to any new readers, I welcome you to the lumbering saga that is the Gilld story. ::doffs hat:: Welcome to my mind!

Levana (Damian)


	11. The Past Returns

**Chapter 11**

_It is our responsibilities, not ourselves, that we should take seriously._

To Diana, Abigail and Lizzie's amusement and her own shock, Eris took to the London season like a duck to water. The first night went incredibly well. Abigail, with her gentle yet flirtations manner, was well on her way to conquering the hearts of half the Ton. Jonathan and Eris were seen everywhere together and, while he gave the customary two dances to any girl who did not make her intentions too clear, it was almost painfully obvious that he and Eris were an item. Neither one really minded, it was the obvious conclusion and one that they wanted drawn. After all, their mutual attraction was clear even though it remained unspoken. Jonathan was afraid to frighten her with a declaration of love and, frankly, Eris was terrified of the same.

And so they continued much as they were, laughing and chatting their way through night after night of dances, parties, balls and dinners. Eris began to forget that she had ever been nervous of this sparkling, bright world. She learned, under Abigail's careful direction, how to flirt and, under Jonathan's watchful eye, how to stop before any of the other men got any ideas.

The end of May was drawing nigh and, Jonathan had to admit, he was getting a little bored of the season. While dancing every night with Eris was a joy, he could do with some time to himself again. And perhaps some time to talk to her without the entire Ton watching.

"Let's not go tonight," Jonathan said abruptly as Eris came down the stairs, looking resplendent in a dress that seemed to be made of the very moonbeams in the sky. She looked down self-consciously. Jonathan shook his head, smiling. "Nothing to do with you, dear, you are still the most exquisite creature this side of the Atlantic Ocean. I'm just sick of this life."

"But we're already dressed and prepared to go," Abigail said, making her grand entrance. Jonathan applauded politely. "Besides, Mother and Father said they would accompany us this time. I want their opinion on Lord Arthur."

Jonathan snorted and Eris hit him lightly with her fan. "Don't do that, Jonathan, he's a sweet boy."

"Exactly. He's a sweet boy. Who in their right mind would let a "sweet boy" near Abigail?"

"A mother willing to overlook the woman for the fortune," Lizzie said. The three of them looked up, they had not seen Lizzie come down. "Then again, he may actually adore my baby daughter."

"Mother," Abigail said warningly. Jonathan and Eris shared a look.

"If my parents are going, why do we have to go and chaperon?" Jonathan grumbled.

"Because it's fun, Jonathan dear," Eris answered, smiling sweetly.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who was so dead set against the idea of venturing out of this house in the first place."

"London has grown on me," Eris answered. "Come on, lazy boy."

"She's got you there, Jon," Lizzie said with a chuckle. "Let's go."

The four Gillds and Eris set off to Almack's Assembly rooms. For once, Abigail was not the center of attention. Lizzie and Joshua had been to a few of the more exclusive private dinners, but this was the first time that they had ventured out to a comparatively public ball. The matrons of Almack's were thrilled to have the heads of such a prominent family finally grace the halls with their presence. Lizzie and Joshua made small talk while the younger generation went off to mingle and be adored.

Abigail was surrounded by her usual circle of admirers, pushed their by their mothers or the evidence of their own two eyes. Also by her side were some girls who she had chosen to befriend. Eris had been impressed at Abigail's choice. There was no common denominator in looks or legacy, but all of them were more intelligent than usual and always armed with the right riposte. It amused Lizzie more than anyone else, because she saw what Abigail was actually doing. Her daughter was now in control of the most damaging of the gossip-mongers in the Ton. Anyone could spread lies or worse, the truth, but it was the girls who could do it with panache that were dangerous. Nothing spreads as quickly as a well-delivered quip and Abigail had placed herself in the perfect position to control them all.

The night slowly wore on and Jonathan reached the point where it would be polite to dance with a few of the other girls, if only from sympathy. He kissed Eris's hand in farewell and smiled as he went off to dance with one of many pretty faces.

"May I have the next dance?" asked an unfamiliar voice. Eris turned slowly and saw a nervous and rather intense looking young man smiling up at her with trepidation. He was about three inches shorter than she was, but looked so very hopeful, she could not do anything other than say yes.

"It would be my pleasure," she answered, wracking her brains as to where she had been introduced to this boy.

"Thank you," he said fervently. "I've been waiting for a chance to dance with you since Lord Statler's ball last month." There was a pause. "And I don't believe I actually said that out loud."

Eris laughed brightly. "I'm flattered..," she trailed off, still unable to recall his name.

"Elliot," he provided for her, blushing. "William Elliot."

They danced the first set together, with Jonathan close enough to keep an eye on her. Eris tried not to flirt with the poor creature, but even if she had, it would not have made much a difference. He was besotted with her and Jonathan would have been jealous had he not found the sight of them so very ludicrous.

Joshua, who was standing on the edge and watching his children, had to fight not to comment to Eris as she passed him.

"Amused at something, dear?" Lizzie asked.

"Look at the poor boy making sheep's eyes at Eris," Joshua answered in a low voice.

Lizzie nodded. "I know. Don't you just want to go up to him and pat him gently on the head?"

"He's lucky he's so pathetic, or else Jonathan would be on him like a rabid dog."

"Wolf in the sheepfold?"

"Exactly. May I have the next dance?"

"You mean you're allowing me on the dance floor?"

"I doubt one set will hurt you too much," Joshua answered. "Your limp isn't that bad."

"I've been saying that for the past twenty odd years, but you never seem to listen."

"I said it wasn't bad, not that your leg is perfectly alright and you can pretend that nothing is wrong."

The second set began and Lizzie and Joshua took to the floor, taking more attention than they should have, since it was well known that the Duchess rarely danced. In the meantime, Eris and her new admirer faded into the background.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet," he said, tugging her hand and leading her towards the windows. Eris waited for some more information, but got none until they reached the edges of the brightly lit ballroom.

The figure there stood out against the glow of candlelight and bright fabric. He was dressed impeccably, albeit rather more somberly than one would expect for Almack's. He was still cloaked and hatted, which began to alarm Eris. It had been a while since she had been worried for her safety in public, but the familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach was returning.

"Hello again, Adéle," said the man, sweeping off his hat and bowing to her. Eris's eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth. She began to tremble and step slowly backwards. She tripped over William and, as she fought to regain her balance, he caught her hands behind her back and bound them swiftly. It was only then that Eris thought to scream, but as she raised her voice, a hand came up from behind her and shoved something in her mouth. From what she could tell, it looked like a spare square for a cravat and part of her mind actually found that funny. The rest of her stood frozen as the all-too-familiar man wrapped his cloak around her as well and led her, unresisting, out of the assembly rooms.

They stepped out into the cold night and despite the cloak draped over her, Eris shivered. A black coach with the devices covered was waiting for them. Her abductor lifted her bodily into the coach and stepped in after her, sitting beside her and resting on arm lightly around her shoulders. Eris flinched at the touch.

"Let's go," he called to the coachman and they began to rumble away. "Well, Adéle," he said with a bitter smile, "You've given me quite a chase." She was glad for the gag in her mouth; it kept her from having to respond. "I've been looking everywhere for you, you know. It is a husband's duty to keep his wife safe and cared for."

You are _not_ my husband, Eris thought angrily.

"It is also a wife's duty to remain with her husband and submit to his will. I thought you had been raised better than that. Now, I've rented a room for the week, so we will repair thence and I'll see if you've learned a little more about what you owe to your man in your absence. I let you run away on our wedding night, I do not plan to make _that_ mistake again."

The carriage disappeared into the night, headed towards the outskirts of London.

* * *

Back in Almack's, the second set ended and Joshua and Lizzie stepped off the dance floor. 

"I don't appreciate dancing anymore," Lizzie said to Joshua, surreptitiously rubbing her calf with her foot. "I think I've gotten old."

Joshua laughed. "It happens to the best of us, darling."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with me?"

Jonathan came rushing over. "Have you seen Eris recently?" he asked hurriedly.

"Yes, she was dancing with that poor little creature," Lizzie answered, chuckling softly at the memory.

"Yes," Jonathan said impatiently, "She was last set. Did you see her at all this time?"

Lizzie and Joshua turned to look at one another. "No," Joshua finally answered. "I don't recall seeing her."

Jonathan swore viciously under his breath. "I swore I would keep her safe," he hissed. "I failed her."

"How about we start searching first," Joshua suggested, laying a hand on his son's shoulder. The room was reasonably easy to scan, especially with some magical aid, and it was soon clear that she was not in there.

By that time, they had attracted the attention of Abigail, who excused herself from her followed and went over, trying to read the three anxious faces. "Where's Eris?" she asked.

"That's the question we're all asking," Lizzie said quietly.

"What are we waiting around for?" Abigail demanded. "We're the most powerful mages this side of the world, why don't we trace her?"

"I'm going to assume that anyone foolish enough to take Eris would take some magical precaution," Jonathan answered angrily. "I would hate to let him know we're tracking him before I'm standing right in front of him and one second away from blasting him into oblivion."

"Jonathan has a point," Lizzie said quietly. "We'll make sure that she's not within a mile of Almack's, then we'll go home and get the mirror."

"Why a mile?" Abigail wondered.

"I needed a low enough amount that, if we set off any warning spells, we would still be able to get there before anything happened. Once we're beyond a mile, we'll be providing them with too much of a warning. The mirror, if you recall, is very subtle and will not be detected by most spells."

It took barely a minute to prove beyond a doubt that Eris had left the assembly rooms. Abigail looked close to crying and Jonathan looked as though his granite façade would give way any minute.

"I don't understand," Abigail was saying as the family swept outside without even bothering to excuse themselves to the startled Ton, "Why would anyone kidnap Eris?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume this has something to do with that mysterious past she refused to talk about," Jonathan answered, climbing into the carriage.

"She's a princess from Provence," Lizzie said quietly, joining her two children. Joshua sat up top with the coachman, eager to speed up their journey as much as possible.

"She told you!?" Jonathan and Abigail exclaimed as one.

"No, I inferred it myself and asked a few discreet questions of your Aunt Belle. However, I thought it prudent to leave Eris's secrets untouched until she chose to reveal them. Perhaps I was mistaken. I just was not expecting her father to take such drastic action as kidnapping her."

"She was married against her will," Jonathan said softly. "Does that count?"

"Well, it was not consummated—don't look at me like that, Jonathan. Still, assuming her husband is alive, she would need an annulment."

"Assuming he remains alive," Jonathan added. Lizzie did not bother to reply.

The rest of the journey home took place in utter silence. Jonathan stared morosely out the window; remembering every time he had danced with Eris, all the words he had said to her and all the words that still remained unsaid. He was angry, bitterly angry at himself for not telling her that he loved her. And he swore that when, _when_ she was back in his arms, it would be the first thing he would do. The second, he decided, would be to kiss her.

Barely stopping to remove cloaks and hats, the four Gillds raced up the stairs to Joshua's study, where all the magical artifacts were stored. Diana and Anduin were in there, attempting to translate an old and stained text dealing primarily with uses of magic in ancient, idolatrous religions.

"What's the matter?" Diana asked startled, as Lizzie strode to the desk and muttered the spell that unlocked the desk. She did not stop to answer, but Joshua did.

"Eris has gone missing and we need to find her."

"Show me Eris," Lizzie said to the mirror and watched, eyes steely, as the mirror swirled and cleared to reveal their houseguest. Eris was curled up in a dark leather armchair, clutching a mug of hot soup. A few feet away sat the young man with whom she had been dancing; he was talking amiably with an exceedingly good-looking man who appeared to be in his early forties. He had the same silvery blond hair as Eris.

"Show me the inn where they are," Lizzie requested. The mirror zoomed out so Lizzie and the five people peering over her shoulder could see the name.

"The Dancing Dodo?" Diana read aloud. "Has anyone ever heard of such a place?"

"I have," said Joshua. "It's not a well known inn, but it is run by some very powerful mages. They are all of common birth and thus beneath the notice of most magical practitioners nowadays who seem to forget that their ancestors were only knighted a few decades earlier when one had to be noble to do magic legally."

"Has anyone ever figured out where new wizards come from?" Anduin wondered.

"No, but it's still a fascinating topic how those whose parents do not have magical blood are born with it." Jonathan glared pointedly at his father, who hastily continued with "But that's irrelevant for right now. Suffice to say, anyone at the Dancing Dodo is well protected from magical interference."

"Which means we have to find it by more conventional means," Abigail finished. "Father, do you have any idea where it might be?"

Joshua shook his head. "It's impossible to find if you don't have a reservation. We can try to make one, of course, but that would be a bit of a giveaway, no?"

"So we're reduced to legwork," Jonathan said. "Very well. Let's get to work."

"Someone should keep an eye on the mirror," Diana suggested. "Mother, since your leg is-"

"Perfectly fine," Lizzie said softly. "There is no reason I cannot get into a carriage and ride around town, which is what your father, Anduin and I will do. Diana and Abigail, I want you to stay in the house and look after the children. Jonathan, please stay by the mirror and keep an eye on Eris. A simple communication spell will suffice to stay in contact with us. Will you or shall I?"

"Let me," Jonathan said. "You should save your strength." Lizzie snorted, but did not object. Jonathan, ever calm while doing magic, set up a link between his mother and himself, which allowed him to send and receive thoughts between the two of them.

"Go and Godspeed," Diana said, pecking both her parents on the cheek before kissing her husband warmly. Jonathan felt a wave of despair wash over him and he wondered if Eris would ever kiss him like that.

And then they were gone, leaving Jonathan staring helplessly at the mirror and the girls staring helplessly at him.

"Is there anything we can do for you," Abigail asked finally.

"Think of something to do for her," Jonathan answered morosely. "She looks so scared, so alone. Remember when I first found her?"

"No," answered Diana pragmatically. "As I remember, you were ticked off because of her coat." She hugged her little brother. "Don't worry yet, Jonathan. Mother and Father are very good at what they do. She'll be safe."

Diana went off to make sure Ariel and Sylvia had not been woken up by the commotion and Abigail, knowing when her presence was unwanted, slipped out of the room as well.

The mirror sat in Jonathan's hand and he gazed, staring at Eris waiting for something to happen.

For a long time, nothing did. Eris sat in her chair, sipping the broth and watching the two men talk. Jonathan would occasionally switch the viewpoint to watch the men, but his lip reading was not particularly good and nothing anyone had done could grant the mirror the power to project voices as well as images.

Jonathan was fixated on Eris's face, looking for tiny cracks in the numbness that was her expression, when the taller of her captors strode into view and grabbed her arm. He pulled Eris to her feet, dragging her along with him, and saying something to the little man who had been dancing with _his_ Eris earlier.

"He's moving," Jonathan said aloud, allowing the thought to pass to Lizzie. "He's dragging her towards the stairs. If he.." he voice trailed off, but his thoughts refused to do so.

'Got it,' said Lizzie in his head. 'And try to keep your thoughts to yourself; I'm disappointed you even _know_ those words.'

Jonathan watched, heart pounding, as Eris struggled with her captor. He felt incredibly useless; just sitting here and watching while his love was being hurt. The man dragging her finally got fed up and, with one smooth motion, slapped her across the face.

"How dare you!?" Jonathan screamed at the unhearing mirror.

The man smiled grimly as Eris stared dumbly at him, his lips forming the words 'that should teach you to disobey me'. Then, to Jonathan's utter disgust, he kissed her firmly on the mouth. The kiss was short lived; he drew back a moment later in anger and pain. Eris had bitten him. Jonathan could have cheered.

He grabbed Eris by her long, blond hair and started dragging her upstairs.

"Show me my parents!" Jonathan commanded. He saw them sitting in the coach, arguing vehemently.

"You're not going to get there in time!" Jonathan yelled at his mother.

'We're doing the best we can,' Lizzie answered coldly. 'We'll be there soon.'

"Soon isn't good enough," Jonathan growled. "There has to be something I can do; some way to keep her safe until they get there."

The answer came to him in a brilliant flash. "Perfect," he whispered. "Mother, I need you to tell me how-" he began, talking so fast his tongue was tripping over the words.

'I can't from a distance,' Lizzie interrupted, utterly pleased with her eldest son's plan. 'But your brother has seen me do it.'

"Anthony!" Jonathan bellowed. "I need you now!"

A minute or two later, a very disheveled Anthony dressed in his nightshirt stumbled into the room. "What for?" he muttered sleepily.

Nearly giddy with anticipation, Jonathan replied "To save the day, of course."

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – Wow. This chapter was a harsh mistress. But it's finished now, so I can relax for all of five minutes before detailing the rescue. Poor Jonathan, he has to wait before his time to shine comes. Just a note on names – Almack's really existed and was a very popular set of Assembly rooms run by a bunch of old biddies who were in charge of who was _in_ and who was _out_. You needed connections to get an invitation and needed an invitation to get in. Statler is part of the duo of Muppet men who make snarky comments, the other is named Waldorf. William Elliot is a Jane Austen villain (so all of you Austen buffs should have picked up his nefarious nature from the get-go; extra credit to anyone who can tell me his book). The Dancing Dodo is a reference to the inn "The Dancing Dove" in the Song of Lioness quartet. I think those are all the references made here.

Thank you, thank you, darling readers, both old and new. I'm glad you're still along for the ride and I hope to hear from all of you again soon. I love you dearly; every author should have a fan club like you guys (except not you guys, cause you're all mine!)

Levana (Damian)


	12. Beauty is the Beast

A/N – This chapter is the main reason for the T rating. There are some mature themes present, although nothing that hasn't been addressed in this series already.

**Chapter 12**

_Things aren't magically better if that's what you're hoping for. It's not that simple._

Anthony looked blankly at his older brother. "Why does the day need saving?' he asked finally. "It was fine, on my end, except for the bit where I was woken at three in the morning by my obnoxious-"

"Eris has been kidnapped," Jonathan interrupted.

"Oh." There was a moment's pause. "You couldn't possibly have told me that _earlier_?"

"Sorry, I forgot you didn't know yet. Anyway, I need you to come with me." Mirror in hand, Jonathan led the way out of his father's study and down to the third floor, where Eris's rooms were located. On the way, Jonathan explained what he had in mind.

"I don't know if you can do that," Anthony objected, sliding down the banister to catch up with his brother, who was walking ahead at a grueling pace. " I mean, I saw Mother project her voice through the mirror, but I was three at the time."

"And you have a memory like nothing I've ever seen before," Jonathan retorted. "Snd I assume you've looked up what her actions were and meant since then."

"Fat lot of good that's ever done," Anthony muttered. "I can remember exactly how to do all the spells I can't do."

"Has it ever occurred to you that you don't _want_ to do magic?" Jonathan answered, not thinking.

Anthony stopped dead in his tracks. "What did you just say?"

Jonathan was in no mood to reply and his steps did not even falter. "Look, forget I said anything. Eris is in danger and we don't have time." The two brothers had reached her door and Jonathan threw it open and headed into the room.

"Fine," Anthony growled softly, following his brother. "But this isn't the end."

"Later, Anthony, I promise. Now I need you to tell me exactly what Mother did to project her voice through the mirror."

Anthony shut his eyes. "It was a left handed spell, five fingers outstretched with the forefinger curled down for sound. The hand is waved over the mirror from left to right, and then back again. On the return wave, the words of the spell are said. It was a—why are you going through Eris's trunk?"

"I need something," Jonathan answered shortly. "Continue." Anthony rolled his eyes.

"Very well, but you had better be grateful. The spell was a communication spell coupled to a transparency spell, followed by a top level transference."

Jonathan nodded. "Thank you, Anthony. You are the most wonderful brother I could ever have."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Can I quote you on that?"

"Gotcha!" said Jonathan, pulling something out of the trunk. Anthony's jaw dropped at the sight of the matted, silvery gray fur cloak in his brother's hands. Jonathan looked at it for a moment, and then shut his eyes.

"Jonathan, are you..?" Anthony began.

"I'm fine," Jonathan answered. "Just remembering. Now, ask the mirror to see Eris."

Anthony did and gasped. "Oh God," he breathed.

"What's wrong?" Jonathan said, his heart racing. Wordlessly, Anthony turned the mirror so Jonathan could see. Eris was lying prone on a narrow bed, tears running silently down her cheeks. Her gorgeous dress of moonbeams was ripped and torn to reveal the corset and chemise underneath. Straddling her was the man who had tried to kiss her earlier. His nails had gouged deep scratches in her skin and he was laughing and smiling as he watched her struggle against him. Jonathan felt a sudden urge to break the mirror, but knew better than to be so stupid. For the first time, Jonathan was grateful that there were so many undergarments required by women's fashion; it was the only thing buying them time at the moment.

Jonathan watched, appalled, as the stranger ripped Eris's corset in two and flung it aside. Anthony had the decency to turn away—he would never be able to look Eris in the eyes again if he watched and, since he assumed she would be his sister-in-law one day, that would never do.

"Anthony," Jonathan hissed between clenched teeth. "What's the strongest transparency you know?"

"Hogarten's Great Liquefier," Anthony answered, then proceeded to rattle off the spell. Jonathan nodded, committing the words to memory. "You're not seriously going to use it, are-"

"Of course I am."

"You do remember the side effects, Jon, every-"

"I remember and don't care. You saw what he's doing to her. Hold the cloak out, please."

Anthony did as he was bid, hoisting the rather heavy bundle of fur over the mirror, which rested innocently on the table. Jonathan glanced down. Eris's chemise had been torn away as well and the man's hands were already tugging at the fastenings on her petticoats. Eris had stopped struggling.

"No," he whispered and, with the will of iron that had stood both his parents in good stead all their lives, he shut out all emotions and began the spell.

His left hand moved over the mirror with the thumb and not forefinger bent in and, as it moved back towards him, he started incanting. He switched the communication spell for a variation on the tracing spell he had used first to find Gareth and then coupled on the transparency spell Anthony had recited. He then grabbed the cloak from his little brother and waited as the spells took effect. The mirror, as well as every other reflective surface in the house, instantly turned to a thick, viscous fluid. A cool, silvery glow emanated from the fur in his hand and, glancing down, he saw that Eris had the same glow about her. He shivered and watched as the spell sent out little tendrils from itself towards the mirror. With a sudden flash of energy, the two ends of the spell met through the mirror. The man astride Eris could not see the magic and, even if he could, was too single minded to notice anything other than the rapidly disappearing barriers between him and his goal.

Jonathan smiled grimly and dropped the fur he was holding. It fell, almost miraculously, through the mirror and landed on Eris's face.

That got the man's attention at least. His hands moved from her thighs to the strange covering that had dropped out of nowhere onto her. He tried to grab hold of it and found he could not.

"How are you going to keep the spell going?" Anthony asked, frightened. "That affinity spell is powerful, it will drain you dry in two minutes!"

Jonathan held up his hand and, shivering as the power drained out of him, waited. The man stood up to try and get a better purchase on the cloak and, for one brief moment, was no longer touching any area of Eris's skin or the cloak.

Jonathan shouted the last spell he had planned and then toppled over in a dead faint. As soon as he lost consciousness, the temporary spells all ended and all the mirrors that had been within fifty feet of the spell returned to normal.

Anthony knelt beside his brother, two fingers resting lightly on his neck. There was a pulse beneath them, although it was rapid and shallow. Taking a deep breath, Anthony hoisted his brother up and set him down on the bed. He wondered ruefully what Jonathan would say if he found out that his first instance of being Eris's bed was while he was completely unconscious. After reassuring himself again that Jonathan was, all things considered, alright, Anthony turned his attentions back to the mirror.

"Show me Eris," he commanded. Anthony whistled softly at the scene presented by the mirror. The villain stood against one wall, cradling one hand against his chest and staring poisonously at the creature on the other side of the room. That creature, with the remains of a fancy ball gown still draped around it, was growling angrily at the man. She was a long, sleek wolfhound bitch with anger in her eyes and traces of blood on her fur that Anthony assumed matched the blood flowing freely from the arm of her attacker. The silvery-gray of the wolfhound's pelt matched Eris's hair perfectly and Anthony found himself applauding his brother's masterful transformation.

There was a sudden screaming from upstairs. It was Abigail, yelling in a frightened tone for her older brother. Anthony took one last look at Jonathan, who didn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon, and started off to answer the summons

* * *

Eris trembled with rage, her eyes locked and narrowed on the other in front of her. It cowered and whimpered in the corner and Eris watched it warily to see whether it was truly submitting to her or simply faking it. She was not a member of this one's pack anymore; it could not command her obedience. She panted softly, waiting and watching for it to make its next move.

The man slowly rose to his feet and Eris took a few steps forward, snarling at him.

"Good dog," he said quickly, holding his uninjured hand out to try and stop her. "Nice doggie. Stay, stay, who's a good girl?"

Eris watched it, still advancing slowly. It was making soothing noises, which should mean it was going to submit, but it was still in an aggressive posture. She growled again, meaning to show this other who was alpha. It backed up further against the wall and shouted "Elliot! Where in the blazes are you?"

Eris barked angrily. It shouldn't be making any noises other than whimpering. If it wasn't going to submit to her, she had to take it down. Eris crouched down and leapt for its throat.

The man watched as over a hundred pounds of wolfhound sprung at him. He shrieked and reflexively flung his hand up to guard his throat. Eris struck his injured arm in precisely the same spot as earlier and bit down.

The door burst open and William Elliot came running in. "What the devil?"

"Get her off me!" the man screamed. Elliot made a quick motion with his hand and Eris went flying against the opposite wall and fell to the floor in a heap. She tried to rise, but the work of another spell glued her paws to the floor. Elliot nodded his head, pleased at his work.

Eris whimpered piteously. She didn't understand what had happened. Something had stopped her battle and now she couldn't move her paws. There was something wrong here and nothing she could do could make it right.

"Now where did the dog come from?" Elliot asked calmly. "And where's the girl?"

"The dog _is_ the girl," the man answered, taking heaving breaths. "I was a few moments away from having her when this mangy fur coat dropped out of the sky and landed on her. I tried to take it off, but it was stuck on. Then there was a blinding flash of light and, when I opened my eyes, I was straddling that bitch in the corner and she tried to bite my arms off!"

"Fascinating," Elliot mused.

The man fixed him with an angry gaze. "What do you mean, fascinating? You swore no one would be able to find us or reach us in your inn."

"I know," Elliot answered calmly. "I had thought as much myself. No one has ever been able to before, which makes me wonder what happened differently this time."

"Maybe you aren't as powerful as you thought."

Elliot laughed and shook his head. "Magic doesn't work like that, Highness. It's not just a matter of putting in more effort than the other person. It's…complicated."

The man shook his head. "I don't have time for a lecture. Let's assume that Gilld has found us and can reach us. We have to get out of her before he gets here."

"He won't be able to get in."

"You can stake your life on that, but pardon me if I choose not to. We're getting out of here."

"As you wish, Highness. What do you want to do about the bitch? Put her down?"

The man looked at him in surprise. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because your blushing bride has just turned into a violent animal. Unless you like that sort of deviant behavior-"

"Watch your tongue!" the man snapped.

"Elliot chuckled. "Of course, Highness. But I would watch yours as well, unless you want me to turn you over to the Duke right now. Or worse, the Duchess." The man didn't reply. "Very well, the dog will stay. I'll get the carriage prepared for you."

William Elliot returned a few minutes later, smiling at his customer. "Is all prepared?" asked the man.

"Yes, your Highness," said Elliot with a low, mocking bow. "Oh, I've decided I'm coming with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you clearly need some magical protection and we don't have all that much business at the moment. Besides, since your enemies seem so intent on catching up to you, I would have thought you'd appreciate the company."

"Thank you, then," said the man, rather stiffly. "I do appreciate your concern."

"And I plan to be recompensed appropriately."

The man rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Elliot chuckled and went over to the dog.

Eris looked up worriedly up at the one approaching her. She snarled at it, trying to make it think that she was still powerful. It laughed and hit her smartly on the nose.

Eris whined in surprise. This was not a submissive one. It growled at her, showing its teeth. Eris whined again and lay down on the floor.

"See," it said. "All you need to do is show her who is boss."

"I've been trying to do that for the past year," the other it grumbled.

Eris looked up, puzzled by the noises, then quickly lowered her head when the new alpha saw her.

"Maybe you just don't have the right touch." The alpha took a chain and put it carefully over Eris's neck. "There now, little girl, you can walk again." Eris felt something tugging at her and she got to her feet. The tugging increased, making it hard for her to breathe. She moved in the direction of the pulling, easing the stress on her windpipe.

"Perfect," said Elliot. "She's on a choke chain so we shouldn't have any more trouble from her, right girl?" He rubbed her ears affectionately. "Shall we?"

He walked calmly out the door, the dog trotting willingly behind him. The other man watched angrily. "That's my bride you have on a leash," he growled to himself. "You may be on top this time, Mr. Elliot, but the wheel will turn. When we're back in France, we will see who Fortune favors."

He followed the man and bitch out of the room, a sly smile gracing his features and a plan taking shape in his mind.

They were soon settled in the carriage. "Where to?" asked Elliot.

"Back home," answered the man. "There's a small village in Prince Vincent's lands I wish to visit. I think the magical practitioner there can reverse the spell. If she can't do it, no one can."

"What makes you think I can't do it?" Elliot asked snidely.

"Because you would have done so already and added it to that mammoth bill you are drawing up." The carriage drove off and the man sat back with a smug grin on his face, having managed to get the better of Elliot once.

* * *

"Where's Jonathan?" Abigail demanded as Anthony came skidding around the corner and into the nursery. Ariel and Sylvia were awake and looking eagerly at the large mirror that had sat in the corner up until a few minutes ago. It was now in the center of the room, reflecting its contents out at Diana who was staring at it with furrowed brows.

"What happened?" Anthony shot back.

"There's a man in the mirror!" Ariel said excitedly. "His name is Taliesin! It's a funny name!"

"Well, Ariel's no bargain either," came a voice from the other side of the mirror. Curious, Anthony made his way to the other side, where a strange man stood on the other side of the mirror.

"You told it your name?" Abigail was asking Ariel, who shrugged defiantly. "You don't even know what sort of creature it is!"

"Hey," said Taliesin. "I'm as human as you are. Sort of." Anthony and Diana both arched an eyebrow. "Look, I wasn't up to any mischief, I just wanted a glimpse of this world when the glass I was leaning on melted and I found myself stuck in this mirror of yours."

"It's Jonathan's fault," Anthony said, turning to Diana.

"Shocking," muttered Abigail.

"He cast the Great Liquefier on _the_ mirror and used it to turn Eris into a dog." There was utter silence in the room. "To keep her from getting sexually assaulted by the man who kidnapped her."

"What a ba-" the man in the mirror began, then stopped sheepishly. "Sorry, forgot there were wee ones present."

"We're not wee!" protested Sylvia, wrinkling her nose.

Diana chuckled. "It means little, sweetie."

"So now she's safe from his advances," Abigail said approvingly. "I have to hand it to Jon, he's the first wizard I've ever heard of to break through the defenses around the Dancing Dodo."

"You've only heard of the Dancing Dodo half an hour ago," Diana noted. Abigail glared. "Anyway, we're going to have to do something about our unwanted guest."

"Can't you just recast the spell that brought me here?" Taliesin suggested.

"No," Anthony answered. "It only works once on any given reflective surface. There's something fundamentally different about the surface once the spell's been cast. If you try it again…Let me put it like this, they never found the _house_ of the last man who tried to cast it twice."

"We should, perhaps, warn Mother and Father that all reflecting objects within fifty feet of their workroom have been affected," Abigail mused.

"Fascinating as this all is, how am I going to get out?"

"We'll figure that out in a bit," Diana said distractedly. "Anthony, where's Jonathan?"

"In Eris's bed," Anthony answered without thinking. Taliesin whistled. Abigail snickered and gave the man in the mirror a look.

"I'm going to go up and check on him," Diana said. "Anthony and Diana, could you please bring the mirror over to the study so that the girls can get some sleep?"

"That's not fair," Ariel protested. "I want to talk to the funny man!"

"And I want to talk to the silly lass."

"You can talk to him tomorrow," Diana answered distractedly. "Let's go."

She swept out of the room, shaking her head.

In Eris's room, Jonathan was beginning to awaken. "Oww," he groaned, holding his hand.

'Jonathan!' came an anxious thought in his head.

"My head hurts, leave me alone."

'Thank God,' continued the alien thought. 'Jon, what happened there?'

"Mother?" he asked, squinting and looking around the room.

'In your head, sweetheart,' Lizzie answered patiently. 'Are you alright?'

"I'm fine," Jonathan answered, then sat bolt upright. "Eris!"

He heaved himself up and, only staggering slightly, made his way towards the table where the mirror rested.

'God, you're going to make me carriage sick,' Lizzie groaned. 'Try and shield your thoughts.'

"Show me Eris!" he demanded. The glass of the mirror swirled and then coalesced to show a lovely wolfhound crouched on the floor of a speeding carriage.

"She's alright," he whispered. "Oh, thank God, she's alright.' He paused. "She's left the inn in the company of her two kidnappers. They're running away."

'Then we're going to come home,' Lizzie said. 'Tell your sister. We need to make some preparations before we go off in pursuit.'

There was a slight whoosh that signified the end of the communication spell.

"I did it," Jonathan whooped, throwing his head back and laughing. "I actually did it!"

"Did what?" Diana asked, stepping cautiously into the room.

"She's safe now," Jonathan said, practically giggling. "She's safe and we can track her and we'll set off after them tomorrow and, and…it'll all be alright." And with a beatific grin on his face, Jonathan fell over again.

"Idiot," Diana said affectionately, kneeling down next to her brother and stroking his hair. "Well done, you idiot."

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – I'd like to depart from the usual order of things and start by thanking my wonderful, magnificent, glorious, punctual reviewers! I love you all and you help make writing wonderful. So you all get points for that.

2nd A/N – Well, things are going _better_ for our travelers. This author's note will be a little more serious than usual as there are a few things I want to address because, well, I can. Authorian ramble coming up; brace yourselves (or skip two paragraphs). First of all, in the original "Donkeyskin", as far as I can discover, the princess runs away before her wedding. In Robin McKinley's _Deerskin_ (which was the real inspiration for this story and, in some ways, _Rose of a Beast_ as well), the princess is raped on her wedding night and then runs away. I compromised, mostly because writing the corresponding scene in _Rose of a Beast_ was one of the harder things I had ever done and swore I would never do it again. I wanted to give Jonathan a chance to rescue the heroine, at least a little, and there is no need for Eris to be pregnant the way there was with Lizzie. The story, however, does deal with these themes and I wouldn't really forgive myself as an author if I side-stepped them and bowderlized the tale.

Second thing – dog thoughts. Eris is, at the moment, a dog. Not a human trapped in a dog's body, but a dog. This was done because I am a masochist and like making things harder for myself. I'm kidding. I actually don't know _why_ it had to be like this, the story just told me it did. Anyway, that means she thinks, so to speak like a dog. Dogs don't really think. I know this for a fact, I have a charming Black Lab at home with the brains of a cinder block. They react and love and evaluate the world in terms of themselves, but they don't really think. However, it's hard to write an inner monologue of instinct. So when I'm writing from dog-Eris's perspective, I try to convey the lack of comprehension. For example, she can't understand other people as people the same as her so everyone else is an it. She also thinks in terms of pack, because that's how dogs function.

Anyway, I hope this met with everyone's approval. Until next time, I remain, dear reviewers, your

Damian


	13. On the Road

**Chapter 13**

_Happiness, noun. An agreeable sensation arising from contemplating the misery of another.  
_

Joshua's study was occupied by about as many people as it could hold. The Duke himself sat behind his desk, his chin resting on clasped hands as he looked out at the rest of his family. Sitting on the desk to his right was Lizzie, her thoughts preoccupied as one hand idly stroked her husband's hair. The chaise lounge was taken up entirely by Jonathan, who was lying prone with a warm cloth resting upon his eyes and forehead. Diana and Abigail were sharing an armchair meant to be roomy for one. Anduin had dragged a stool in from the nursery and was perched on it, watching his wife and sister-in-law elbow one another surreptitiously in what was sure to be a futile attempt to gain more room. Anthony, who was bitterly lamenting being the youngest, was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against the chaise lounge Jonathan had commandeered.

"Well," said a voice from the corner, "Now that everyone's here, can we get started getting me out?" The mirror was currently facing away from the room, but its occupant was not going to let that stop him from making his opinions known.

Jonathan lifted his head and stared bleary-eyed at the back of the mirror. "Umm, did anyone else hear the mirror talk?"

Abigail chuckled. "Oh, that's Taliesin. He got stuck in the nursery mirror when some idiot cast Hogarten's Great Liquefier without bothering to ward the premises."

"I was in a rush, as Anthony surely explained to you," Jonathan answered wearily, resting his head back on the couch. "And I thought we're here to save Eris, not get some twit out of a mirror."

Lizzie and Joshua shared a resigned glance. "First things first," Lizzie said. "Tomorrow morning, Jonathan and I are going to set out in pursuit of Eris. Assuming, Jonathan, you're feeling up to it."

"I will be by then," Jonathan answered fervently.

"Aww, how cute," Anthony teased. "Going off to rescue your true love?"

"Call it a fine family tradition," Diana responded with a grin.

"Wait," said Taliesin, "Wasn't Eris the girl whose bed he was in earlier?"

Anduin snorted with laughter. "For the tenth time," Jonathan protested, "She wasn't in it at the time!"

"I don't think I should ever let him live that down," Abigail murmured gleefully.

"If we can put the merciless torturing of Jonathan on hold for a moment," Joshua said, raising his hand to ask for silence, "I would like to finish fleshing out this plan. Your mother and Jonathan will fly off tomorrow after the kidnappers. At the same time, we will be sending off one of the Ducal carriages back to Gilld Hall. Anduin, would you help us create some water-based simulacra so that even the magic users believe my lady wife and son are back in residence?"

"I would be delighted," Anduin answered.

"Excellent." Joshua rubbed his hands together. "In the meantime, After that all has been set in motion, Abigail and I will set our minds to freeing Taliesin from the mirror."

"So you mean you don't know how to get me out of here?" Taliesin asked irritably.

"No," Joshua answered simply. "Bur we will find that out sooner or later."

"Under no circumstances," Lizzie said quietly, "Can anyone find out that Jonathan and I are not in Gilld Hall. Our kidnappers cannot know that we're following them. This means no magical communication unless our lives are in danger. Anthony, if you could check in on both us and Eris periodically, just to make sure everything is going according to plan, I would be extremely grateful."

Anthony saluted. "As you command. What do I do if Jonathan suffers a near fatal attack of sarcasm in a tavern or something?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Laugh?" she suggested. "If that doesn't help, you could always get your father." Anthony tried not to grimace at feeling supremely useless.

"Well," Diana said, clapping her hands together, "If that's everything, some of us are rather tired and would like to get some sleep before having to be awake tomorrow."

"Amen to that," Anthony agreed fervently. They all left the room, except for Jonathan and his parents.

"You're planning on spending the night on this couch?" Joshua asked.

"The thought of getting up again seems far beyond my abilities at the moment," Jonathan answered wearily.

"And yet you will be in perfect shape to travel with your mother tomorrow?"

Jonathan fixed his father with a bleary-eyed glare. "Come hell or high water, and this family has encountered quite a bit both, I will be leaving tomorrow. And the more sleep you allow me to get, the less likely I will be to whine my way across half the continent."

Lizzie chuckled softly and Joshua nodded his head with resignation and a bit of approval. "He's your son through and through," he remarked to Lizzie.

"There are those who might call stubbornness a Gilld trait," Lizzie answered, "Present in this line long before I was even born."

Joshua ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "This one has the trait in excess, though." He laid his hand over Jonathan's forehead and gently murmured a spell. Jonathan drifted off to sleep almost immediately, a small smile gracing his features.

"That was smart," Lizzie said, linking her arm with her husband's.

"I had this terrifying image of him staying up all night, reanalyzing everything he had seen, and looking worse when we got back tomorrow than he does now."

Lizzie chuckled. "I'm not surprised. I'd ask if you think he'll be up to leaving tomorrow, but it's rather moot, isn't it?"

Joshua waited until they were actually inside their room before wrapping his arms around her. "Lizzie," he whispered softly, "You will be careful, won't you?"

She cupped his cheek and kissed him. "I will be careful, I promise."

"And you won't do anything stupid, will you? Because, honestly, I'm not ready to lose you yet."

"You won't lose me yet," Lizzie answered, letting him hold her close and bury his face in her hair. "You will be stuck with me until we are both old and gray," she paused. "Grayer than we already are, I mean." Joshua chuckled wetly. "And you will be waving your cane at me and shouting at me for being ornery and I'll be trying to listen and screeching 'what?' as loud as possible."

Joshua actually laughed that time. "I adore you, sweetheart."

"And I you, Joshua. Don't worry; what could we possibly be up against worse than me?"

"We still don't know the identity of this mysterious husband," Joshua pointed out. "And he does seem to have at least one powerful magic worker on his side."

Lizzie kissed him again. "We'll be fine, Joshua. And if anything happens, you can come along and throw him down into the lowest circle of hell for attempting to harm someone you love."

Joshua sat down on the bed and looked up at her. "That bothers you, doesn't it?"

"That we don't know who we're going up against?" Lizzie responded. "Yes, a little. I would feel a little better about Eris if we knew who had her in his power. All this mystery is getting to me because I can't really think of a good reason for it. Not that I wouldn't be able to handle it or anything, but I prefer having more information as opposed to less."

"You could show a little more fear," Joshua remarked. "You may be facing a formidable opponent."

Lizzie glared at him. "I can't win with you, can I? If I were scared, you would be too and would worry every second about me going. If I'm not, you accuse me of dangerous bravado."

Joshua sighed and leaned back so that he was lying prone on the bed. "I know, I know. It's just…I'm rather used to having you around. Are you sure I can't go in your stead?"

"We discussed this already, Joshua," Lizzie said patiently. "There are any number of reasons why everyone has to believe you are staying in London. Besides," she added with a wicked grin, "You got to go on the last adventure."

Joshua stuck his tongue out at her. "Very well, darling. But if you come back in more than one piece, there _will_ be hell to pay."

"I have no objections to that," Lizzie answered. "Now, could you unlace this thing for me; I'd rather not have to sleep in a corset."

Joshua got languidly to his feet. "Yes, dear."

The house was silent for a few precious hours before dawn made her first attempt to break through the grayish cloud that hovered above London. Jonathan was the first to awaken; the spell having worn off him just in time for sunrise. He stretched and winced slightly as a frame slightly too small for the couch tried to readjust itself. His back cracked slightly and he groaned, sitting up and trying to work the kinks out of the rest of his muscles.

It was another fifteen minutes before Lizzie wandered sleepily in. Jonathan was sitting up, paging through a book in search of information about the liquefaction spell he had used the night before.

"Shouldn't you have done the research before the spell?" Lizzie asked, tapping the pages of the book.

"I was in a rush," Jonathan answered. "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as we're both dressed and ready," was her answer. "Don't dress too well, but make sure your clothing is of good quality. And have at least three weapons on you, two concealed."

"Mother, I know how to dress to survive."

"Humor me," she answered shortly. "Be downstairs as soon as you're done." They both left the study for their respective bedrooms, Jonathan muttering as he went.

"You would think I was a child," he growled softly, stripping off his dress clothes from the night before, now much worse for wear. A bath was in order—Eris could only get so far away and Jonathan was planning on boosting his magical ability any way that he could, even if it meant taking the extra half an hour to ensure he was really relaxed and focused. The driving anguish that had been fuelling him so well the night before had faded, mostly because he was reasonably sure of Eris's safety. She was protected by the strongest magic he could conjure and, even if they spirited her away to the farthest corner of the earth, he would follow and bring her home. She would be safe again soon and, in the meantime, he was not going to make the mistake of rushing into something. He got lucky the first time, but he wasn't under the same pressure anymore and Jonathan was not going to risk his love's life because he was too stupid to slow down and think. He might, as his sister would say, do something idiotic, but it was premeditated stupidity.

The water in the bath had cooled while Jonathan's thoughts danced through his mind. He was ready, eager even, to go off and teach that man a lesson.

Dressing was a simple affair. As per Lizzie's instructions, the clothing laid out for him was of good material without being overly showy. He looked bourgeois; rich enough to climb the social ladder but common enough to pass beneath the notice of anyone truly important. It was, as his father had pointed out time and time again, the perfect disguise. No one ever looked for a wizard as only upper-middle class; if they had that much money and any magic to speak of, their blood was blue.

By the time he got downstairs to the morning room, Lizzie was already sitting there, daintily sipping tea with her legs crossed. Jonathan's jaw dropped.

"Mother!?" he yelped. "What in God's name are you wearing?"

Lizzie looked down at the silk breeches encasing her legs and smiled up at her son. "Clothing," she answered shortly. She was dressed well, with silk shirt and an unembellished but well made waistcoat. A velvet jacket hung over the chair behind her. She rose to her feet, standing with her hands braced on her hips.

"They're tailored to you," Jonathan said accusingly.

Lizzie shrugged. "Well, who else would my clothing be tailored to?"

"Why aren't you wearing a dress?"

"Since when are you the defender of propriety?" Joshua asked with an amused grin, entering the room with Allisande on his heels.

"I brought you some breakfast," she said to Jonathan, balancing a tray on her hip.

"I don't care about propriety," he answered Joshua angrily.

"Form what I heard about where you were sleeping last night," Allisande said with a perfectly straight face, "I could have guessed that myself." Jonathan fixed her with a withering glare while Lizzie chuckled.

"You know," Jonathan grumbled, helping himself to the food laid out before him, "Most places have better behaved hired help."

"Most places don't have Duchesses dressed as the younger son of a low level lord, which is what I'm assuming your mother is trying to pass for," Joshua answered.

"And succeeding admirably," Allisande said, patting Lizzie's shoulder. "You have the perfect build for it."

Joshua laughed, then quickly tried to turn it into a cough. "Thanks darling," Lizzie remarked dryly.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and, having finished consuming his meal at a rate attainable only by a young male, rose to his feet. "So, shall we be off?"

Lizzie nodded. They stopped only to take their cloaks and hats, Jonathan shaking his head at Lizzie when she sat hers on her head at jaunty angle.

"You look like a fourteen year old playing at being an adult," he said, shaking a finger at her.

"I know," she responded, trying to get the cloak to drape artfully. "And with any luck, no one will look any closer than that until it's too late."

"Be careful," Joshua said affectionately, pulling his son close in a warm hug. "Take care of your mother," he whispered in Jonathan's ear. "You'll do fine, though," he continued in a louder voice. "I have faith in you and we can publish the banns when you get back."

Jonathan blushed crimson. "I have to ask her first," he muttered.

"Yes, well rescuing her and sweeping her off her feet in the time honored way of doing that," Allisande said. "Clichéd, but for a reason."

"Can we leave? Now?" Jonathan asked Lizzie plaintively.

"Why, you think I won't be teasing you?" she asked.

"No, I know you will be. But at least the odds are better."

Joshua wrapped his arms around Lizzie one last time. "Don't stay away too long," he murmured, trying to fix the feel of her in his arms until he could hold her again.

"I'll be back before you know it," she said, pressing a kiss to his lips. Lizzie looked at Jonathan and nodded to him. He shut his eyes and let the magic in him lift himself into the air. Lizzie followed suit and mother and son were soon gone from sight.

Joshua watched the sky long after they had disappeared.

"They'll be fine, Joshua," Allisande said, resting her hand on his arm.

"I know," he answered. "It's just…memories, I suppose. And what if she meets something she can't handle?"

"Possibly you're thinking of a different Lizzie than I am, cause I have yet to meet the creature that does not give way before her."

Joshua nodded and sighed. "Very well. I suppose I should head back inside and deal with our friend in the mirror." He strolled nonchalantly inside and, had Allisande not know him since he was about ten, she might have even believed the carefree attitude.

In the meantime, Lizzie and Jonathan were soaring above the London fog and doing their best not to breathe too often.

"So," Jonathan asked carefully, "How are we planning on tracking these men?"

"Well," Lizzie answered, "As soon as we get through this overwhelming cloud of smoke that has taken up permanent residence over our city, we will strike out towards the South, which is where you saw them going yesterday, no?"

"Pardon the comment, Mother, but there are a lot of places that fall into the category of south of England."

"If I had to guess, I'd say France."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "France too is a large place. This could make the proverbial needle in a haystack seem like a simple task."

Lizzie chuckled. "Well, I would assume that out friends would be on the lookout for any sort of homing spell that centers on them."

"So something more undetectable..?

"Exactly," Lizzie said. "We'll use the same thing you always did to find Gareth. After all, it's not like there is a shortage of dog hair in the house. I took some out of the trunk that was holding the fur cloak. That should lead us to them."

Jonathan nodded. "I've always wondered, how come no one has ever bothered developing a way to deflect that spell?"

"It's impossible," Lizzie answered. "Well, not impossible. But it would take half the mages on the Continent to stop it."

"But it's not a powerful spell!" Jonathan objected.

"It doesn't have to be. Magic is based in blood and body; by founding a spell on the principle of one part of the body calling to another, you practically guarantee that the spell is unstoppable. To counteract it, you would have to stop the very nature of magic, which makes it rather difficult to cast a spell. That's the beauty of this magic – it requires such a low power expenditure that it's nearly unnoticeable, yet is still the hardest spell in the world to counteract."

Jonathan nodded. "And that is why," he finished, "You should never allow any part of your body, even the smallest hair, to be left behind. Mother, I do remember your lectures from when I was young."

Lizzie chuckled. "You also remember the part when I told you that this spell is illegal to use on anyone not related to you, right?"

"I assume we're making an exception in this case."

"The law is a lovely yet nebulous thing and let's just hope we don't get caught or noticed."

"Yes, it is a pity that this spell is visible to everyone. We'll just have to catch them before nightfall when it really starts to glow."

"Or deactivate the spell and recast it once the sun is shining again?" Lizzie added acerbically.

"That too."

Lizzie and Jonathan nodded and, as they burst through the cloud hovering above London, turned their attention southwards to cast a spell. Far away in the distance, a carriage was drawing to a halt outside of an inn. Its occupants had ridden pell-mell through the night and were now sorely in need of some rest. The first to dismount was a lovely wolfhound, who stretched languidly and trotted off in search of water. The other two occupants, two men who seemed to share nothing in common but the travel stains on their clothes, staggered into the inn to beg for some food and a bed.

The race was on.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – Well, for a chapter in which nothing happened, this took a lot longer than I expected. I blame getting sick and the High Holidays. Those things always throw me off. Hopefully, I will be back to regular scheduled updates in a week or two. In the meantime, the plot will continue to stew and simmer in my brain and I will do my best to get it onto metaphorical paper.

Thank you to all of you, my lovely readers, who come back time and time again to see what will happen to the Gillds. And thank you for being so tolerant of me; I truly appreciate it. See you soon!


	14. In Flight

**Chapter 14**

_The unspoken word never does harm_

To Jonathan's disgust, they had not managed to catch their quarry by nightfall. The sun had begun to set and Lizzie tapped her son on his shoulder.

"Jon, remember what we said earlier about _not_ wanting to be found out under _any_ circumstances?"

"But we must be close by," he protested.

"There is an old proverb about enumerating a quantity of fowl before they leave the ovum."

Jonathan glared. "Thank you, Mother. I just don't want this to take longer than necessary."

"Since they started moving again at midday, they've been traveling almost as fast as we are," Lizzie said quietly. "We may not going to catch up with them by following their trail until they reach their destination."

"Then what's the point in flying!?" Jonathan nearly screamed.

"I never said they were doing it on non-magical power. There is a very competent mage in that carriage."

"Not strong enough to reverse my spell," Jonathan said smugly.

"No, but I'm sure they're heading towards someone who can. That's what I would be doing."

Jonathan idly waved his hand and the faintly visible spell dissipated. "That narrows our field then," Jonathan answered with a smile. "Assuming that, as a Prince of France, he would prefer to keep this within the country, there are only a few mages there that qualify as very powerful. And, assuming that this man is the stubborn and arrogant idiot he has proven to be so far; he will take no less than the best mage in all of France."

"And you know he's a stubborn and arrogant idiot..?" Lizzie said, leading him on with a smile.

"Because, if he was not going to insist on having his way all the time and having what he views as the best, he would never have come here after Eris _or_ kept her alive after the transformation. He's determined to marry her, despite what is thrown in his path. So nothing will stop him from getting what he wants and he will go to the best mage around to get it. Can we beat him there?"

"Where?" Lizzie asked, delighted at listening to her son's reasoning.

"I have no idea, you haven't let me speak to the French mages yet for fear that I might ruin all diplomatic relationships now and forver. But I have no doubt you know."

"I do," Lizzie answered, grinning with anticipation. "Molyneaux."

* * *

"Molyneaux?" Elliot repeated, gazing at his employer. "I've never even heard of such a place, why in heaven's name would we want to go there?"

"Because," the man said patiently, "That's where the greatest mage in France lives."

Elliot snorted. "Some mage. I've never heard of him."

His companion laughed. "Of course you haven't. Only the Princes of France know about _her_. She is too powerful to be bothered by the problems of peasants." Elliot rolled his eyes. "Her clientele consists solely of the cream of the crop."

"You make her sound like a high level courtesan."

The man smiled at Elliot. "Say rather that a courtesan is like a mage. You go in and demand satisfaction and they demand pay and everyone walks out happy. It's pure commerce."

"You've obviously never fallen in love with a specific courtesan, then," Elliot answered." The man laughed at him

"Of course not, you foolish man. I've yet to meet any woman as beautiful as my old wife. Except Adéle, that is."

"Because, of course, the only thing you look for in a woman is beauty," Elliot muttered under his breath.

The man overheard and laughed. "Beauty is merely the beginning. It is the first signifier. It isn't the looks in and of themselves that matter, but they are the first sign."

"Of what?" Elliot asked, intrigued despite himself.

"Of perfection. Of all the things we glorify in a woman. The fairest, the purest, the most modest, the best of everything. And you can't have the fairest of them all without beauty."

"So you want to marry Adéle because she is…"

"Perfect. Everything a princess should be."

"Except for the tiny little problem that she keeps running away from you?" Elliot asked ever so sweetly.

The man shook his head and laughed. "She has spirit. You can't break something that doesn't have spirit."

Elliot gave up and let the carriage ride continue in silence. There was no reasoning with this man. On the bright side, it was going to make his life easier when he rescued Adéle later on. Once this mage of who all the royalty of France thought so highly turned Adéle back into a girl, he would offer to take her husband on and rescue her in return for her hand. And he was sure she would accept. After all, he was not exactly up against stiff competition.

He was more worried, in fact, about the complete lack of pursuit. They had just kidnapped a girl out from under the Gillds' noses and it seemed almost impossible that there would be no one to give chase. The young marquis, for one, seemed to like the girl very much and it was unthinkable that a family with the power and resources that they have was not on their tail.

Unlike his employer, he was not willing to believe that they were simply too good to be caught. Elliot knew his magic was powerful and that his spells were of high quality, but he had no illusions that he could stand up to the most powerful couple in the country on his own. That argued that he simply had not sensed any pursuit yet. His spells should be able to detect any tracking spells that had been cast, but nothing was turning up.

Elliot closed his eyes. There was no way the Gillds could catch up to them at the pace he was setting; the best they could do would be keep up with their coach. And when they reached the channel, well, no mage was stupid enough to use magic to cross water. He forced himself to calm down—they were in no danger of being overtaken.

* * *

Flying the channel was more difficult for Jonathan than Lizzie. Unlike her, he had never actually flown across any body of water more substantial than a stream and it was rather disconcerting. As Joshua had said the first time he tried, knowing that you were hovering over the one element completely antithetical to your magic could scare even the most competent mage. Lizzie insisted that this was the origin of that old legend that witches were stopped by running water. Jonathan shared the same opinion as all members of his family; any mage who was stopped because his magic was momentarily disabled did not deserve the title. It was that thought that kept him going, because if he let his other thoughts, such as 'Oh god oh god, I am going to die,' in this would be a very short rescue mission. Also, Anduin had taught them all the rudiments of water magic, so all was not lost if they fell. This was the real reason that no Gilld would show fear when crossing large bodies of water, though none of them would ever admit it.

They survived the trip, despite Jonathan being sick a few times. Lizzie and Jonathan landed in France and recast the spell they had been using to track Eris. To Jonathan's glee, it was now pointing behind them, back towards the channel.

"So," Jonathan began cheerfully, "What do we do now? Catch them as they land on French shores?" Lizzie glared at him. "Which would, of course, have a catastrophic result, not to mention drag all this into the public eye, where everyone agrees it doesn't belong. But it would be so satisfying."

"I can promise you that the revenge will be sweet," Lizzie said quietly. "But we're going have to catch them under _our_ jurisdiction because I really don't want the entire continent declaring war on England because we're following a personal vendetta. Unless you want to find a way to challenge him so that there is no possible thought that you cheated and used magic."

"A swimming contest?" Jonathan suggested dryly.

"Tempting, but it doesn't really have the thrust-parry-thrust excitement. I don't think the public will go for it."

"So I have to wait until there is a mage to challenge involved. Can't I just challenge whoever has been traveling with them and helping them up until now for aiding and abetting kidnappers?"

"Ah, yes," Lizzie answered, " And in what court of law in this earth can you charge a man for taking his wife somewhere against her will? Technically, he has a right to challenge us for keeping him from his bride and working magic on her without his consent."

"So how do we challenge him at all?"

Lizzie laughed. "You were the one who brought up dueling and such to begin with. Who says we need to challenge anyone?"

Jonathan looked crestfallen. "But I so wanted to beat someone to a bloody pulp."

Lizzie chuckled. "I think I can guarantee you a chance to beat him to a bloody pulp. There are, however, _ways_ of doing things and we are going to go about this properly."

Jonathan was about to respond, then paused as he was opening his mouth.

"Yes?" Lizzie prompted.

"I just realized something," Jonathan said. "Father is supposed to know all the mages on the Continent, right?"

"In theory, yes," Lizzie answered.

"But no one would be stupid enough to go to a mage in contact with Father for fear that they were warned against helping them."

"Is this going to become 'How do you know about a mage that Father doesn't?"

"No," Jonathan answered. "That's obvious, you chose not to tell him. What I want to know is how you know about him?"

"Her," Lizzie corrected. "And I lived in Molyneaux, if you recall."

"For about six months over three decades ago," Jonathan shot back. "I don't think that qualifies you to know about the existence of a secret mage."

"She's well known as a hedgewitch in the area," Lizzie answered distractedly.

Jonathan shook his head. "Clearly, I'm not going to get an answer out of you—"

There was a sudden loud bang and Lizzie and Jonathan both nearly fell out of the sky.

"Is someone shooting at us?" Jonathan asked incredulously. A second shot in their direction confirmed his suspicions. "Oh no they don't," he growled softly, almost grateful to have someone on whom to take out his frustrations.

"Jonathan, don't! You don't want to—"  
Lizzie shouted, but her words came too late. Jonathan dove down gracefully, heading in the direction of the sounds. Lizzie closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, then plunged on down after her son to a treetop from which she could observe the proceedings and intervene if necessary. There were, as far as she could tell, two alternatives. The first and far more preferable one was that they had been mistaken for geese or something and had been shot at in order to provide a family with dinner. The other option was that someone here did not like mages very much. Lizzie shook her head ruefully—Belle had been talking about some priests in isolated towns who would still preach condemnation of magic and witch burning. If they encountered such people here…well, she wished Jonathan had had the sense not to jump right into things.

Jonathan plummeted towards earth, reveling in the feeling of power as the earth drew closer. Their attacker was staring at him, mouth open in utter shock. The man fumbled with the gun in his hands, trying shakily to aim it at Jonathan. Jonathan rolled his eyes and, with a quick burst of speed, pulled the gun out of the man's hands and threw it away before the man's finger had even reached the trigger.

"Hello," said Jonathan pleasantly. "Why were you shooting at me?"

The man reached tremblingly beneath his shirt and drew out a crude wooden cross on a rope. "Get back from me, warlock!"

Jonathan gaped at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Take your devil away from us," he said, waving the cross at Jonathan. "We want none of it!"

"You shot at me!" Jonathan protested. "You shot at me and expected that I wouldn't come after you?"

"I am not afraid to die," the man said defiantly. "I am doing God's work!"

"Well, why don't you let God do his own work," Jonathan growled, "And get back to providing for your family."

"They will understand if I die in the service of our Lord."

"You have a big mouth and I'm not going to kill you, but if you ever try to hurt another witch or warlock again, you will be turned into a pig." The man stared at him in disbelief. "Do you think I can't do that?" Jonathan asked.

"I believe you," the man said quietly. There was a very uncomfortable pause.

"I'm waiting for an oath from you," Jonathan said coldly.

The man stood defiant, but Jonathan would have none of that. He looked the man straight in the eye and began incanting.

"You have my word of honor that I will never harm another of your kind," the man gabbled quickly.

Jonathan smiled and clapped the man on the shoulder. The latter flinched, as if worried that magic was contagious. "Excellent, I'm glad we've had this talk."

He waved cheekily at the man and took off.

The man watched Jonathan fly up into the air, muttering to himself about Satan and the devil.

Lizzie was waiting in the air with a furious look on her face. "What?" Jonathan asked innocently. "What did I do wrong?"

"You could have been shot," Lizzie hissed, "You could have been killed and do you know what will happen if that man goes to the local magistrate with the news that a British wizard threatened him?"

Jonathan shook his head. "I have his word of honor that he will never harm another wizard again."

Another shot rang out. "That lying son of a—" Jonathan began, then stopped abruptly. Lizzie was staring down at the right side of her chest, where a red stain was slowly spreading..

"I think he lied," she said before toppling over backwards.

Not too far below them, a poor peasant farmer laid his hand affectionately on his eldest son's shoulder. "That was well shot," he said with a smile. "God and I are both very proud of you today."

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – I know this is a short chapter, but it was practically begging to be ended here. Besides, how could I not?

Yes, I know that my random digression into religious politics will not be appreciated by all, but they were still burning witches in those days, especially out in the rural areas where there was really not much to do other than struggle to survive and hope to god your neighbor wasn't cursing your cows. Mind you, I have no idea what witch burning would be like if magic were real, but I can only imagine the sort of trouble one could run into with a combination of the Bible's stance on witches and the jealousy of the unmagical. Yes, this is a rather abrupt entrance and yes, we will be seeing these guys again, but not for a very long time. They will be in Anthony's story, I think.

In the meantime, thank you to all my darling reviewers (who have been complaining that nothing is happening – something happened this time!) and to all the people who have been putting this story on their favorite lists – I really appreciate it!


	15. Aftermath

**Chapter 15**

_Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome._

Isaac Asimov

Jonathan's brain stopped as he watched Lizzie fall from the sky. Everyone has a few things in their life that he or she is simply incapable of comprehending. For Jonathan, this was it. All his life, he had seen his parents as invincible—capable of withstanding whatever mage or destiny threw at them. This was the woman whose defeat of his grandfather was legendary and whose magical prowess was, as he had seen first hand, extraordinary. She could not be felled by something as simple as a small piece of metal from the barrel of an ordinary and not very high quality gun. The world could not possibly work that way.

Jonathan's body, fortunately, shared none of his mind's paralysis. As if by reflex, he dove down after her; determined to snatch her out of the sky before she reached the cruel arms of the earth beckoning below them.

As the wind rushed past Jonathan on his frantic descent, he wondered what he was going to tell his father. The thought of facing Joshua and explaining how he had let his mother get harmed was absolutely terrifying. He did not dare think of what would happen were Lizzie to actually die. Facing his father would be the least of his problems, how would he ever live with himself? As far as he was concerned, his parents were a fixture in his life—annoying, demanding and constantly interfering, but what would he do if he lost either one of them? Where would he be without his mother to follow along or badger with questions or even, when the mood took them all, to beg for a story?

Jonathan put on a burst of speed, reaching out with desperate fingers. He caught hold of Lizzie's jacket and grabbed on for dear life. Jonathan turned in midair so that Lizzie was falling besides him now and, with as much strength as he could muster, pulled her out of gravity's grasp and back into the sky.

His arms were wrapped around her waist now as he soared upward and from this hellish place. He had no destination in mind, no thought of anywhere to go other than away. He flew almost blindly and faster than he had ever flown in his life before coming to his senses and setting down in an empty cornfield.

Hidden by the giant plants, which grew high enough to cover even his head, Jonathan set Lizzie down gently. The blood had soaked through her shirt and had begun to stain Jonathan's as well. Impatiently, Jonathan unrolled the cloak Lizzie had on her back and tore off a good length of fabric, folded it up and pressed it down, hard, over the wound. He hissed a spell under his breath and the fabric began to press down of its own accord, keeping Jonathan from having to hold it there. It was the work of a moment and another spell to put a small protective shield around the wound to keep anything, even air from getting in. This was especially vital when a chest wound is involved, Jonathan remembered his father saying, and so he sealed this spell as best as he could. Not for the first time, Jonathan wished he had been trained more thoroughly in the healing arts. They were talents more commonly known by hedge witches and women; rumor had it that his father's mother had been a formidable healer in her day. Rebuilding tissue was a complicated task and required intimate knowledge of the workings of the body. There was, however, something he knew he could do.

He closed his eyes and, wishing he had Anthony's perfect memory, thought back to a lecture someone had once given him about blood. Blood, the wizard's life force and the seat of their power, was the most dangerous thing to lose in a duel. If a wizard could do nothing else, he must at least be able to keep himself from losing more blood. There was a spell to speed along the clotting of a wound, to at least make sure that no more power is lost to the wizard.

Jonathan rested his hand above the soaked cloth and began the incantation. It was a short one; it had to be. When Jonathan lifted his hands away, there seemed to be no change, but the wound was covered and protected by the cloth and spells woven into it. He hoped this would stop the blood loss, at least.

The next thing to do was find someone who could treat her. They were in France and, as far as he could tell, the local population seemed rather unfriendly towards mages. He was lost, but he did have a prayer. If he continued on to Molyneaux and begged the mage there to save his mother's life…

It could work, he thought, gathering Lizzie in his arms and taking off again. It had to work.

Jonathan set a grueling pace for himself, well aware that if he tired himself out before the reached the village they were doomed, and even more aware that he would never allow himself to tire before they reached their destination.

They soared over the landscape of Northern France, dancing on winds that tried to buffet them back and forth. Molyneaux was towards the eastern end of the country, and it was away from the setting sun that Jonathan angled himself.

It was growing dark out when Lizzie's eyes first fluttered open. Jonathan looked down and was surprised to see his mother gazing dazedly up at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked worriedly, his eyes taking in the pallor of her cheeks and the sleepiness in her eyes.

"Bad," Lizzie answered after a moment's pause. "What happened?"

"You were shot," Jonathan answered shortly.

"Oh. That would do it." She smiled up at Jonathan, her head titled slightly. "I'm still so tired…" she drifted back into unconsciousness and Jonathan immediately shifted her weight so that he could reach her hand and feel for a pulse. It was still there, although nowhere near as strong as it should have been. He dreaded to think what would happen if he did not reach Molyneaux in time. It seemed like a good thing that she had woken up, but Jonathan really could not be sure. Still, he had set his course towards the small town and, if all went well and he did not tire, they would be there by dawn. Jonathan only hoped Lizzie would survive the night.

As Jonathan flew ahead towards clear skies, a torrent of water was pouring down over the channel. Elliot was huddled below deck in the boat they had rented for n exorbitant fee. Adéle was racing around in the small confined space, chasing her tail as if she had nothing better to do and nary a care that the ground beneath her feet would not stay still. Her groom was pacing as well, turning every so often to glare derisively at Elliot.

"I grow less and less impressed with the powers of wizards," the man drawled.

Elliot glared back, too green around the gills to make a truly cutting remark but determined to try nonetheless. "Every power has its limits," he groaned weakly. "You do not claim that fire is powerless because water stops it."

"Yes, but one never sees the fire looking so pitiful," the man answered, smiling down at the mage. "You know, I could overpower you without much effort at all right now."

Elliot ignored him. He was well aware that his employer needed him to get them to Molyneaux in one piece, not to mention that no one could be so stupid as to assume they could elude the Gillds without any magical protection whatsoever. The man needed him; he was just looking for petty ways to get back at Elliot as payment for needing someone so beneath him. He was just going to have to grin and bear it. Elliot's lip curled into a sneer. At least he would until Adéle was turned back. Then the man could watch and rant as Elliot swiped his bride right out from under his nose.

A wave crashed against the side of the boat and Elliot moaned, curling up in small ball on his bunk and wondering if he had anything left of his lunch to lose. Eris looked down at her paws in confusion, wondering why she was no longer standing up and instead sitting down halfway across the room. With a philosophical doggie shrug, she turned in a circle twice, then dropped heavily into the curve her body and fell asleep. The man watched her, still standing tall with the help of a well-placed beam. He looked down at his bride, his eyes flashing with impatience.

"Soon," he crooned softly to himself. "Soon she will be mine for good."

It had been three days since his mother and older brother had left and Anthony was getting restless. It seemed like everyone else in this house had something magical to do in which he would be completely useless. Diana and Anduin were occupied in the understandably difficulties of running a noble house during the Season and Abigail had roped their father into helping solve the mystery of the man in the mirror. Anthony got the sense that Joshua was grateful for Taliesin's presence, as it gave him a puzzle to focus on instead of coming in every five minutes to ask if his wife was alright.

Anthony was sick and tired of gazing into the mirror and watching as indistinguishable cloud formations drifted past his mother and brother. There were a few great moments watching Jonathan retch over the Channel, but Anthony would have traded places with Jonathan in a second, vomit and all, to have those glorious moments of magical flight.

It was time to check the mirror again so, Anthony, with a sigh, reached for the magical artifact and held it up. "Show me my mother, please," he asked idly.

A picture coalesced before him, of Jonathan flying determinedly away from the sun. Anthony's eyes barely rested on him for a moment as he scanned the image for Lizzie's silhouette as well. She was nowhere to be seen and Anthony felt his pulse quicken. He looked closer at Jonathan, noticing that he seemed to be carrying something.

With a realization like a bucket of cold water, Anthony realized what was going on. Lizzie must have been injured and Jonathan was carrying her for help. He brought his face so close to the mirror that his nose was almost touching the glass. He could see better now; could see the determined and terrified look on his older brother's face and the red stain that covered half of Lizzie's shirt.

"What happened?" Anthony demanded of the mirror. "I command you to show me how this happened!" But the image didn't change; it stayed focused on the sight of his mother lying limp in Jonathan's arms.

Anthony swore fluently. He should have remembered that the mirror's recall powers were only accessible to a wizard and there were damn well enough of those in the family for him to find out what happened. His first instinct was to go to Joshua, but he rethought that impulse almost immediately. His father would go haring off over the channel and catch up to them three days from now, since Jonathan was clearly not slowing down and had a destination in mind. He assumed that destination was both the home of a powerful magic user and closer than returning home. Jonathan was not stupid; he would do what needed to be done. Anthony just hoped that was enough.

He was tempted, briefly, not to tell anyone at all and just let Jonathan save her since, realistically, what could any of them do? There were two problems with that plan, Anthony reflected bitterly. The first was that his father would flay him alive. The second was that he didn't _know_ that there was nothing that could be done and he had to try. Just…not with Joshua.

Clutching the mirror, he walked dazedly to the nursery and rapped on the door. The girls' nurse opened the door.

"Uncle Ant?" Ariel yelped, slipping immediately through the door to give him a hug. "Have you come to play with us?"

"Sorry, sweetie," Anthony said, bending down and giving her a kiss. "I need to find your Mommy."

Ariel shrugged. "I think she's downstairs with the cook. Can you sneak us up some pastries?"

"I'll see what I can do. Now go cause trouble." He heard the nurse sigh as he turned around in search of Diana.

He found her in the dining room, arguing with the maitre'd. "Diana, can I borrow you for a second?" he asked apologetically. "It's rather urgent."

Diana turned exasperatedly towards him. "How urgent?" He pointed to the mirror and Diana paled slightly. "Very well, we'll continue this later."

She marched off to a different room with Anthony in tow. "What happened?" she demanded.

Anthony lifted the mirror, which was still showing Jonathan flying determinedly towards the East. Diana squinted at the picture before terrifying comprehension dawned on her face. "What happened to her?" she asked Anthony, her voice icy with rage.

"I don't know," Anthony exploded. "Unlike all you oh-so-powerful mages, I can't rewind the damn mirror so I don't know!"

Diana backed up. "Alright," she said, pitching her voice to be soothing and not entirely succeeding. "Let me try."

She held the mirror in her hand and asked, her voice laced with magic, "Show me how my mother was hurt."

Diana watched, Anthony peering over her shoulder, as Lizzie yelled something unidentifiable and Jonathan replied with his usual insouciant grin. As his mouth finished moving, he looked up in disgust. At that moment, a red bloodstain blossomed on Lizzie's shirt. She said something and toppled from the sky, Jonathan racing after her.

"Show me who shot her," Diana demanded through clenched teeth. The picture swirled and changed to show a young boy of about Anthony's age, a man who looked rather like him resting his hand on his shoulder. He was holding a smoking gun in his hands and was smiling up at the man, who was beaming down at him.

Anthony looked closely at the boy; his eyes narrowed angrily as he took in every single feature and filed it away. Diana went to put the mirror down.

"Wait," Anthony hissed, making Diana stop in mid-movement. "I want to memorize his face." So Diana held the mirror steady for a few more moments. Finally, Anthony looked away.

"If she dies," he growled, his hands trembling, "If she dies, I swear to God, I will kill them both." Diana looked at her younger brother and said nothing. Anthony took a deep steadying breath. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait," she answered finally. "There's nothing we can do from here. Even if I could replicate Jonathan's magical feat from earlier, there's nothing I can think to send. Jon will have done all he could for her; I know that much."

"So we just sit back and hope Mother doesn't die?" Anthony muttered.

"I'm open to your suggestions," Diana retorted. "I do rather lack your encyclopedic memory."

"Yes and a fat lot of good that's done me. I'd give it up in a second for one ounce of magical prowess."

"I know you would," Diana answered.

There was a moment or two of silence in the room before they heard movement next door and the maitre'd's voice saying "Yes, they disappeared into morning room a few minutes ago."

"We can't let him see the mirror," Diana hissed, tucking it into her skirt pocket and smoothing the fabric to hide any evidence of it.

Joshua walked into the room and Diana and Anthony stared at one another, completely at a loss what to say. Fortunately, Anthony was used to situations like this and before Joshua had even taken three steps, he turned on Diana, his eyes pleading with her to play along.

"Look, I don't care what you might have read, Shakespeare is the greatest playwright to ever have lived."

Diana blinked a few times in surprise as her brain caught up to her younger brother's and she realized what he was doing. "I never said he wasn't," Diana replied soothingly. "I just said that he…what's the word I want…distilled stories from around the world into his plays. The language might be his, but the ideas certainly are not."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Any idiot can have an idea," he said dismissively. "It takes a genius to transform one of those into a story that people throughout the ages will appreciate—"

"As fascinating as this exchange is," Joshua interrupted, completely missing the relieved looks that passed between his eldest daughter and youngest son, "I was rather hoping Anthony had an update for me on your mother and brother's adventures."

Anthony smacked his head. "I completely forgot," he said in as apologetic a tone as he could muster. "I'll go up and do it right now."

Joshua looked at him askance and Anthony fought the impulse to wipe his suddenly sweaty hands against his thighs. "Well, it's nice to see you care so very much about their welfare," Joshua said finally, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Don't bother yourself, I'm sure you have many other things to do. I'll go up and check myself."

He turned on his heel and left. Diana put a comforting arm around Anthony's shoulder.

"And somehow, I feel guilty about this and I haven't even done anything wrong!"

"If he knew what was really going on—"

"Then I can only imagine what sort of response I would get. And what is he going to do when he realizes the mirror isn't there?"

"Throw a fit," Diana answered promptly. "I suggest we stay out of earshot for a bit." Anthony bit his lip worriedly. "In the meantime, I have a plan."

"Oh?" Anthony asked, perking up.

"Well, _we_ may not be able to get to France, but Aunt Belle is already there. I think we should go up to my study and let her know what is going on. And we don't have to worry about any betrayal on that front."

"I have a better idea," Anthony said. "Why don't we talk to Jonathan first and see where he is going, then have some coordinates to give Aunt Belle?"

Diana nodded. "Good idea." She started off towards her personal study, leaving Anthony behind for a moment. He looked out at the setting sun, trembling slightly.

"Good luck, Jon," he said quietly. "I have faith in you." Then he turned and followed Diana up the stairs.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – I'm running low on excuses for why this is taking so long. Mostly because I'm lazy, but we will just have to see. And Lizzie isn't dead yet, so just sit tight and we'll see if our heroes can pull through again. I kinda feel bad for Jonathan, with all the lives currently resting square on top of his shoulders. Oh well.

If anyone is interested, my DA gallery has a sketch of Anthony, the link is http:// jabenami. deviantart. com/art/Anthony-Gilld-68635080 . Except without the spaces. And yes, if you clamor loudly enough, I will do a family portrait. Then again, it might be better to actually finish the story first. Hmm.

Thanks to all my darling reviewers, both new and old. Where would I be without you all?


	16. Twilight Preparations

**Chapter 16**

_Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them._

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Twilight was settling over France as a small boat finally landed in Calais. The first to disembark was an overexcited wolfhound, who bounded around and explored every inch of the docks that she could find before contenting herself with chasing away a few very unhappy rats. Right behind her strode a tall man who appeared to be in his early forties. He was walking reasonably well, especially for someone who was not yet entirely used to dry land. He called angrily for the dog to heel, but she paid him no attention and went to go sniff at the nearest sailor. The final passenger had to be carried out. He was still a charming shade of green as the two sailors given this unenviable duty brought him to shore.

"Thank you," Elliot rasped, falling to his knees on the not-particularly clean streets of Calais. The him companion turned up his nose, but now that the seasickness was passing, Elliot could feel his strength returning and began the all-important spell to calm his stomach.

He rose to his feet, feeling significantly better, and immediately turned on the other man. His eyes shown and his very body seemed to shimmer with magic. "If you _ever_ treat me like that agai-"  
"I could have killed you," the man interrupted. "Slit your throat while you lay abed and you could have done nothing to stop me."

Elliot gnashed his teeth. Damn the man, but he was right. "Just watch yourself, next time," he finished finally.

"My dear Elliot, what makes you think there will be a next time?"

"Let's hope there won't be," Elliot shot back. "Now, let us see about getting a carriage."

Elliot was impressed as his employer led him to an inn and, within a few moments, managed to get hold of the royal carriage that had been left there when his Majesty first set out on his journey to England. They were off towards Molyneaux in less than an hour and Elliot was feeling confident about beating the Gillds there by at least twelve hours.

The two Gillds in France were, of course, a full day ahead of their quarry and Jonathan, while never actually forgetting about Eris, had forced himself not to dwell on her plight. There were far more pressing matters with which to concern himself.

He was on course for Molyneaux when a very familiar voice rang out in the dusky air and called his name. Jonathan was so startled, he nearly stopped flying. "Diana?" he asked suspiciously, wondering if he was hallucinating his older sister's voice and, if so, why.

"I saw what happened," Diana's disembodied voice said. Jonathan's face visibly fell. Diana must have seen that, as she continued with "Don't worry, it isn't your fault." Jonathan disagreed with that statement, his last hour or so having been filled with remorse for having ever considered going down there to try and reason with that peasant.

"Look," Diana continued, well aware that Jonathan was blaming himself anyway, "I want to let Aunt Belle know what happened, but I'm going to need to give her somewhere to meet you? Can you say where you're going clearly so that I can lip-read?"

Jonathan nodded and, with exaggerated movements, said the name of the town.

"Molyneaux?" Diana repeated curiously. "Why are you going there?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes, the clearest way he could think of indicating that this was not the best medium for having a conversation.

"Point taken," Diana said. "But Uncle Vincent's summer castle is right near there, I'm sure they will be there by now and it will only be a two hour ride to reach the town. How long until you get there?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Dawn," he said clearly. "I hope."

"Dawn?" Diana repeated. Jonathan nodded his head, the small part of his brain that was always ready with a caustic quip mused that this was even less stimulating a conversation than he usually had. "I'll tell her that. Good luck, Jonathan. And wish me luck as well."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. He was surprisingly grateful even for Diana's disembodied presence. His older sister made him feel more like himself and less like a roiling mass of guilt and shame.

"I am going to keep Father from finding out anything—at least until you reach Molyneaux and get her to a healer. Once she's on the mend, I'll let him find the mirror again. But you owe me for the hell I'm going to go through tonight."

Jonathan was not sure for what he was more grateful; Diana's willingness to keep this from Joshua or her faith that their mother would get better. He smiled and thanked her profusely.

Diana laughed. "Just get her to safety and I'll take care of the rest. Oh, and good luck dealing with Eris's beau."

Jonathan sighed and made a face at Diana. "I'll see you later," she said and then she was gone. Jonathan bit his lip and tried not to shiver. He missed Diana already; it was comforting to know that there was someone on his side even if that someone was his older sister. He tried to think about this philosophically; out of all of his siblings who could have found out, Diana was the best. She was more mature and magically competent than Anthony and more sympathetic than Abigail would have been. He shuddered at the thought of the tongue-lashing he would have gotten from Abigail and that would have been before she'd run off and tell his father. Jonathan shook his head, not even Abby was that bad.

Thinking about his siblings was helpful, as it distracted him from thinking about recent events. He flew on through the night, checking every so often to make sure he was still oriented towards the little village.

Diana put down the mirror with a sigh. "Are you feeling alright?" Anthony asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Diana answered. "I just hope Jon is too."

"Did he seem…different?"

"Oh no," Diana answered. "That's what worries me. You know how Jonathan copes with situations; he hides away and acts perfectly normal and rips himself apart on the inside. He's never going to forgive himself for letting Mother get hurt."

Anthony shook his head. "If she dies—"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Diana said firmly. "There's no reason to worry about that, now, it will only leave us more anxious and high strung than before. We _should_ be doing what we can to help her. And that means talking to Aunt Belle."

Anthony nodded, grateful that he had his older sister to be the strong, decisive one. "Are we going to use the mirror again."

"No, I want to be able to carry on a conversation this time. We have the necessary artifacts to contact them upstairs in my study. Which means hoping we don't run into Father on the way up."

"You do know," Anthony remarked, "that chance is _not_ on our side for that."

"He could be hunting feverishly through your room for the mirror," Diana suggested hopefully as they made their way to the second story where the magical study was located.

"No, the laws of chance practically dictate that anything you know is going to happen is going to happen at the worst possible moment for you."

Diana chuckled, taking refuge in humor. "There should be a name for that phenomenon."

As chance would have it, they met Abigail on the stairwell. "Father sent me to look for you," she said to Anthony, her voice surprisingly devoid of its usual taunting. "You might want to hide, he looks fit to kill."

Anthony schooled his face to complete innocence. "Why, what's wrong?"

Abigail had seen that particular look too many times, between Jonathan and Anthony, and was well aware what it meant. "What's going on?"

Diana and Anthony looked at one another. Abigail rolled her eyes. "I do have _some_ familial solidarity and I've been keeping Father out of your hair for the past three days. If you need me to keep him distracted, I can do that, but I will need to know why."

"Or else?" Anthony asked, her voice icy.

Abigail fixed her brother with a cool gaze. "Or else I'll be painfully distracted because I'll be tempted to eavesdrop on your private conversations instead."

Diana nodded pointedly at Anthony and withdrew the mirror. Abigail gasped. "Father has been tearing Anthony's room apart in search for that."

"I figured as much," Diana answered. "Now come with us and we'll let you see what's going on."

Abigail dutifully followed them to Diana's study. Diana handed the mirror to her younger sister and started rummaging through the desks.

"What am I supposed to be looking for, Anthony?" she asked, since Diana was clearly otherwise occupied.

"Ask to see Mother," Anthony answered quietly.

Abigail narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to like what I see, am I?" Anthony shook his head. "Very well," Abigail side and addressed herself to the mirror.

"Found it!" Diana exclaimed triumphantly. She was holding what looked like a crystal ball with a rose etched in the surface. "Lord, this is the last time I let Anduin _clean up_ this place." She lay the ball down carefully on the desk rested her hand atop it so that the tips of her fingers were pressed against the outermost petals of the rose. The incantation fell easily from her lips and, as her hand fell away from the orb, it began to slowly revolve; casting light around the room before finally revealing the inside of Prince Vincent's study.

"Now we wait," said Diana, sinking down into the nearest chair with a sigh. Anthony leaned over, fascinated by the crystal ball and trying to guess which spells were powering it. His grasp of magical theory was excellent and was only startled from his intellectual reverie when Abigail came over and almost slammed the mirror down on the desk.

"Don't break it!" Diana growled at her sister.

"I wasn't planning on," Abigail shot back. "God, what a mess! Leave it to Jonathan to screw up so spectacularly."

"Jonathan?" Anthony asked with confusion. "How is this his fault?"

Abigail looked at her little brother shrewdly, then shrugged. "Everything is his fault, Anthony."

"You're taking this surprisingly well," Diana remarked. "Especially since…" she trailed off.

"I usually make a big fuss about every little thing?" Abigail finished for her. "This isn't a little thing, Diana. This is big, about as big as it gets. And if I can't keep my head now, what good am I as a mage? Little stuff doesn't matter so that's the perfect time to lose your temper. But if I couldn't even handle hearing that Mother might die, how would I possibly be able to pretend nothing is wrong when dealing with Father?"

The silence in the room was finally broken by a voice emanating from the crystal ball.

"Joshua?" came the voice of their Aunt Belle.

"Not quite," Diana answered. "How are you, Aunt?"

"I'm having quite a nice summer here. And how is the London season going?"

Diana chuckled. "Spectacularly. Jonathan has found himself a girl." Belle's laughter was so infectious that they all joined in.

"Is he with her now?"

"Not exactly," Diana answered. "It's rather a long story."

Abigail snorted, then took a deep breath. "Jonathan fell in love with your missing French princess, except her husband-to-be came down and kidnapped her so Jonathan and Mother set off after them and chased them across the channel, but then Mother got shot and might be dying so Jonathan is bringing her to the nearest healer who apparently lives in Molyneaux."

"Err, I guess it isn't that long a story after all," Diana said. Abigail smiled serenely at her.

"Lizzie's dying?" Belle asked worriedly.

"We don't know," Diana answered. "She might be, if Jonathan doesn't get there in time. But we know they're heading for Molyneaux and we were hoping you could meet them when they get there. Why _are_ they going to Molyneaux, do you know?"

"There is a very powerful mage there," Belle answered finally. "Her existence is a secret; the villagers think she is just a hedgewitch, but all the royalty in France know of her and come to visit in disguise. I assume your Mother told Jonathan about her."

"Presumably," Diana answered blandly, squeezing Abigail's hand in an attempt to forestall any more inquiries. "Jonathan plans to reach Molyneaux at dawn."

"I'll be there," Belle promised. "Tell Joshua not to worry. Though I doubt that will do any good, knowing your father." There was a sudden silence as Belle seemed to remember to whom she was speaking. "You have told him, haven't you?"

"Not…as such, no," Abigail said finally.

"Might I recommend that you do so," Belle said archly.

"We will," Diana promised. "We just wanted to have everything under control so that he doesn't go haring off and do something foolish."

"So you will tell him," Belle pressed.

"We will tell him," Diana and Abigail repeated.

"Good. I'm off to make the necessary preparations to meet Jonathan at dawn. Don't worry about my side of things."

"Goodbye and Godspeed," Diana answered, resting her hand back on the crystal ball and letting the light within go dark.

"I noticed," said Anthony, "That you did not specify when we were going to inform Father of this development."

"In good time," Diana answered, "All in good time. Now, Abigail, you should get back to Father. You've wasted more than enough time hunting for us as it is."

"Very well," Abigial sighed. "Do either of you have an idea for an alibi?"

The three siblings looked around at one another. Anthony snapped his fingers. "Diana, I will be escorting you to the Royal Academy of Magic. Something marginally catastrophic came up and they wanted your opinion on the matter. One of those where the messenger isn't supposed to bring the reply, but the person."

"And why didn't we go tell Father and send him instead?" Diana asked, intrigued.

"Because he was clearly busy and the note simply required the presence of one member of the Duke's family, it did not specify which."

Abigail clapped him on the shoulder. "Excellent work, Anthony. Very well, I'm off to lie to the Patriarch of the family. I suggest you two make yourselves scarce."

As Abigail left the room, Diana and Anthony did just that, slipping downstairs and into the wine cellar in search of something decent with which to calm their nerves.

* * *

Belle stared at the now dark crystal ball with no small amount of worry. She knew, better than most, what Lizzie was capable of withstanding and she cringed to think of something able to bring her indomitable sister-in-law down. After all, if she survived nearly thirty years of marriage to Joshua, she should be able to handle anything. 

"Belle?" asked a gentle voice from behind her. She spun around and found herself looking up into her husband's caring eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"Lizzie's been shot," she answered, resting her head on his chest.

"What?" Vincent exclaimed, drawing back to look her in the eye. "Is that possible?"

"She always claimed to be merely mortal," Belle responded quietly. "I hope we don't have to find out. Apparently, she and Jonathan were chasing after the missing princess from Provence. They are in France right now and Jonathan is heading towards Molyneaux to visit Genevieve and hope that she can save Lizzie."

"That was good thinking," Vincent said after a moment or two, "Telling them about Genevieve."

"I didn't," Belle answered with a smile. "Lizzie already knew."

Vincent paused, then chuckled. "Ah, yes. I had forgotten."

"I thought as much." Belle's tone turned serious. "Jonathan is due to arrive in Molyneaux by dawn, I plan to be there to meet him."

"I'm quite tempted to forbid you to do so," Vincent said finally. "Much as I love your relatives; getting mixed up in what is certainly a Gilld situation could have…repercussions."

Belle looked up at Vincent through narrowed eyes. "And when did that stop me from doing what I wanted to do, my love?"

"Never," he grumbled, crossing his arms in a pout. "Not even when I was frightening enough to enforce it."

Belle gently unfolded his arms. "Poor dear," she said with a grin.

"I was being serious though, Belle. I don't want you going out there."

"I know, but I have to. Even if we didn't owe Lizzie our lives, I would have to. Vincent, she's family."

He sighed. "Very well, then. I'm coming with you."

Belle shook her head. "I thought you might say that. You shouldn't."

Vincent looked at her with an arched eyebrow. "Oh really? Stop me." Belle glared up at her husband, but he just glared right back.

"Vincent, you should stay here. The castle needs you around to run."

"No it doesn't," he retorted. "That's why we have Cogsworth on staff."

"And someone has to keep Cogsworth from fighting with Lumiere."

"Then that oh-so-enviable job will go to Aleron for the day. He is my heir, after all. He should have some practice keeping the household from exploding. Then again, by the time Aleron finally takes the throne, one of those two might have been persuaded to retire."

"Never," Belle replied. "They will retire at the exact same time, for fear of leaving the castle in the hands of the other. But you are trying to distract me, darling."

Vincent's face fell. "It didn't work?"

"I really would prefer that you not accompany me."

"And I don't care. I'm going."

"Vincent…" Belle began warningly.

"What time will we be leaving?" he enquired.

"Four in the morning," Belle answered grumpily. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this. Vincent chuckled and kissed her forehead.

It was just turning three when Belle slipped out of the castle. She had gone to the coachmen that night and let them know that she was leaving for Molyneaux at three in the morning and that they should not tell their master, under any circumstances.

She climbed quietly into the carriage and shut the door with a snick.

"You're late," came a voice from the darkness. "It's already five after three,"

"Vincent!" she yelped. "What are you doing in here?"

"Accompanying you to Molyneaux," he answered blandly. "As I said I would."

Belle turned resolutely away, annoyed that he had managed to bypass her careful plans. She would have preferred to draw as little attention to this mission as possible and, though they were traveling incognito, the odds of Vincent not being recognized were slim.

"Sweetheart, don't be angry at me," Vincent said quietly. "I just don't like the idea of you running off into danger without being there to protect you." He slid his arm around her and drew her close to his chest. Her protests were rather half-hearted. "Now try to get a little more sleep," he finished affectionately.

"I'm still angry at you," she grumbled, resting her head on his shoulder and shutting her eyes for just a moment.

"Yes dear," he answered in a bad attempt at meekness.

They arrived in Molyneaux just in time for dawn. Vincent shook his wife awake. She yawned and stretched her arms before the royal couple dismounted from the carriage. They stood in the meadow outside of Belle's old house, staring out towards the lake. They watched as what seemed to be a mere smudge in the sky drew closer and descended over the water.

"Jonathan!" Belle called out to the figure passing overhead. Said figure saw them and turned in midair.

Jonathan landed gracelessly next to his relatives, his legs buckling as he touched ground. Vincent was there to catch him, using one hand to stabilize the exhausted boy so that he would not drop the woman he carried.

"Let me take her," he said to Jonathan, who looked blearily up at him.

"I have to take her to the mage," he insisted. "I can't let her die, not after all my hard work."

"I know," Belle said soothingly. "And we know where she lives, we'll take you to her. But let your Uncle hold her for a bit. I promise he'll be careful."

Jonathan reluctantly relinquished his mother's unconscious body. Vincent looked down at Lizzie's pale, drawn face. It was hard to connect this small, frail creature with the twenty-year-old firebrand who had followed him and Joshua home thirty years ago. Belle was peering down at her as well. "She's aged, hasn't she?" Vincent remarked, trying to think of something to say.

"It happens to the best of us," Belle responded dryly.

"Where is the mage?" Jonathan asked. "You said you know where it is." He was staggering drunkenly by this time. Belle took her nephew firmly by the elbow and steered him into town. Vincent followed them as they wound their way through the streets that were an hour away from becoming bustling with the morning business. They finally reached the bookseller's shop and Belle led them inside.

"These are books," Jonathan said in an accusatory tone.

"Watch and wait," Belle replied, her hands moving carefully along the spines as they searched for one particular book. When she found it, she tugged lightly on it and a whole section of the wall swung smoothly inside.

Jonathan wasn't impressed. He marched in to the best of his abilities and wove down the hall before reaching a door. He struck it angrily with his fists.

Before too much time had elapsed and too much damage could be inflicted on the door, it was opened to reveal a woman in her late twenties, wearing a light dressing gown over her night shift. Her hair was long and dark and fell down her back in a single plait. The most remarkable feature about her was her pale blue eyes that seemed to shine even in the dimness of the hallway.

Jonathan, startled in mid-knock, would have fallen into her, had Belle not had the presence of mind to grab onto the back of his shirt and keep him up.

"I need your help," Jonathan gasped, the collar of the shirt rather tight around his neck.

"I can see," the woman answered, one eyebrow raised.

"Not for me," he mumbled. "For my mother."

"He's here with us," Belle said, pushing him forward so that they could all enter her hoise. "Genevieve, we need your help."

"With what, your Highness?" Genevieve replied.

"My sister-in-law was shot," Belle answered. "She needs a healer, badly."

"Bring her in here," said Genevieve, her tone changing to a far more business-like tone. Vincent did as he was directed, laying Lizzie down on the mattress indicated. "Now tell me what happened to her."

"She was shot," Jonathan said. "She was shot and it was my fault and you can't let her die."

"I'll do my best," Genevieve answered. "Can you tell me when she was shot?"

"Thirteen hours ago," Jonathan answered listlessly.

"Well, if she's still alive now, that is a good sign. Now you go to sleep, you'll do your mother no good if you die of exhaustion."

Jonathan was given a warm blanket and a pallet on the floor. In less than three minutes, he was asleep.

Genevieve was examining the patient in front of her. "Will she survive?" Vincent asked worried, standing over them.

"We shall have to see," Genevieve answered. "Go and wait near the boy, I work best without people leaning over me." With a gentle touch, Genevieve removed the spelled cloth keeping the wound closed and began to whisper. The healing spells were complicated, especially this long after the original wound and Genevieve was loathe to reopen the wound and take out the bullet, but it was lodged too near the lungs for it to remain inside. But Genevieve was one of the best healers in all the world and if she couldn't save this woman, no one could.

_**T.B.C**_

A/N – Well, this took longer than anticipated. First rule of writing—it ALWAYS takes longer than you thought it would. And I promise that you will be seeing some action in the next chapter. Jonathan will be well rested and our evil kidnappers are nearing their destination as well. So fear not, we are nearing the end. And I've managed to justify the roots of this story by bringing Belle and Vincent back for a while.

Anyway, thank you, all of you, for not giving up on me. I'm always thrilled to get your reviews and I really appreciate my dedicated readership. You guys are all the best.

And I offer, as an excuse for taking so long, http:// jabenami. Deviantart. com/art/Abigail-Gilld-69362191 If you want to click on the link, just copy and paste it into your browser and take out the spaces.


	17. To the Pain

**Chapter 17**

_May all who love the Lord, love you and those who don't love you, may the Lord give them a limp so you can see them coming._

It was sunset when Jonathan finally stirred from his pallet on the floor. He groaned as he awoke, his back crackling ominously as he tried to get all his joints straightened out and in working order.

Once Jonathan decided he had a decent chance of remaining upright if he tried to stand, he rose slowly to his feet and only needed a little assistance from the table to stay so. He looked around the room, trying to remember what he was doing in this strangely bare wooden room with its simple furniture and handmade curtains that kept light away from the figure in the bed across the room.

Jonathan's memory returned with a jolt and he staggered across the room to make sure that the person in the bed was both his mother and still breathing.

After he confirmed those two all-important facts, he forced himself to calm down and lean on the bedpost to remain standing. He had done it. Lizzie was still breathing and he was in Molyneaux and he could now focus on some more important issues.

He staggered to the door and, to his disgust, found it locked. After a painful attempt to kick it down and a marginally less agonizing attempt to use magic to open the lock, Jonathan resigned himself to being stuck in the room. He slumped down in the nearest chair and took inventory of his body. He felt as if he had been dragged by wild horses through the streets of London, then thrown into a tavern brawl and beaten to a pulp for good measure.

"The question is," he mumbled to himself as he rubbed at a particularly nagging ache in his shoulder, ""Am I strong enough to get out of the window?"

There was really only one way to find out and Jonathan was not relishing it. He didn't have much a choice, though. He needed to be outside when Eris and her kidnappers appeared. It had occurred to him that he might not make that much of an impression on anyone in his current state, but if he could at least convince the mage who had saved his life not to help them reverse his spell.

Jonathan leaned on the windowsill and unlocked the shuttered, throwing them open to allow the fading light into the room, along with voices from outside. His uncle Vincent was arguing heatedly with arguing with another man. Behind him stood the short little creature to whom Eris had given a sympathy dance at Almack's. Jonathan felt his blood boil at the thought of how easily they had been taken in. He wanted to wring the little man's neck and smiled as he recognized Elliot as a magic user. At least _he_ was someone Jonathan could beat up with impunity.

Sitting by the doorway with a bowl of water in front of her was Eris, who seemed perfectly happy to watch the scene and bark occasionally if the chickens came too close.

Jonathan looked down at the ground outside. There were rose bushes planted under the windows, which made him shudder. Had he been in top form, he would have been able to leap over them without any effort. Unfortunately, he was not as his best physically at the moment and, while the anger heating his blood was doing wonders for bringing back some of his magical strength, he did not want to waste any of that on something as simple as jumping two feet from a windowsill.

His subsequent tangle with the rosebush suggested he probably had not thought that through as well as he might have. Jonathan rolled off the bush, clutching his arm where a particularly nasty thorn had sliced his skin.

The only one who took any notice of him was Eris; the others were far too engrossed in their argument. She picked up her head at the noise and trotted over to inspect. About halfway along, she sniffed the air and then burst into a run that carried her right to Jonathan's feet in the space of two bounds. She licked his face ecstatically, trying to wash off all the dirt from his encounter with the rose bush and the ground.

Jonathan laughed and tried to dissuade her, but soon gave up on that score. He wrapped her arms around Eris's sleek neck and buried his face in her fur. She felt soft and warm and reminded him almost painfully of Gareth.

Eris nuzzled Jonathan affectionately. She remembered this human from…some time before now. He was kind to her and nice and wouldn't keep her on a leash or make her go near the bad human. She sat down next to him, her tail still thumping happily and she rested her head in his lap as if there was nowhere in the world she would rather be.

It was, unfortunately, about that time where Elliot noticed the lack-of dog. He had been listening, enrapt, as the two princes argued over Adéle's fate. The newcomer was clearly acting as an agent of the Gillds, Elliot seemed to remember that the Duke had some connection to one of the French principalities, and he was claiming that his employer had no right to the Princess, though he kept mistaking him for her father instead of her husband. Elliot found it odd that the newcomer was never corrected, but this was not his concern. Either way, Adéle would be his as soon as this chit of a mage returned from whatever errand she was running and dealt with her most noble customers. He turned towards the fence where he recalled Adéle sitting and did a double-take when he noticed she was not there.

He glanced around nervously and nearly overlooked the figures sitting under the window. It was Adéle's silvery fur that caught his eye more than anything else. The other figure was blocked from his view by the tilt of the man's head and the bulk of the dog's body.

Elliot made his way over to them. "Hello," he said pleasantly. "It seems my dog has taken a fancy to you."

Jonathan turned his head towards Elliot and watched the man step backwards. "Your dog?" Jonathan growled menacingly.

Elliot may not have been of blue blood, but his magical training was nothing to be scoffed at. In an instant, he took in Jonathan's weak and battered appearance and realized that if he ever had a chance to beat any of the Gillds, this would be it. Elliot was tired from days of frantic travel, but he was not worried.

His hand was outstretched and pointed towards Jonathan within an instant. Jonathan ducked the sizzling ball of light that was aimed squarely at his head, shoving Eris out of his lap almost angrily. She looked mournfully up at him, trying to understand why her favorite human didn't want her nearby anymore. Jonathan forced himself onto his feet before anything else could happen. As his father had remarked numerous times, no one ever got to duel when it was convenient.

"Welcome, my Lord," Elliot drawled, sending a fierce blast of power towards Jonathan. Jonathan dodged that as well, not wanting to waste the power he had when his feet would serve just as well. In top form, he could take this man down in half a second, especially with Elliot being as weak as he was. At the moment…Jonathan grimaced and started running towards his Uncle Vincent and the man with whom he was arguing.

Elliot stared, dumbfounded, at Jonathan's retreating back before he recollected himself. Adéle was barking madly and chasing after him like a mad bloodhound. No one ever ran from a fight; it was suicide! You would be hunted down and not given any rest until revenge was taken.

Elliot sent a fireball at Jonathan's retreating back, smiling gleefully as the projectile shot straight and true towards his foe.

Jonathan did not see the spell, he had figured on having a bit more time for Elliot to react to the fact that a scion of the Gilld line just ran cowardly from a fight. Eris, on the other hand, saw it clearly. Doggie courage running through her veins, she took a flying leap through the air and knocked Jonathan aside just in time to save him from the blast. The fireball flew past, singing the fur on Eris's back.

Jonathan hit the ground with a thud and Eris landed atop him. He groaned, ninety-odd pounds of dog not really improving his chances.

"Stupid bitch!" Elliot screamed, using magic to lift Eris off of Jonathan and fling her against the wall of the house. Such was the power with which she was thrown that she crashed through the wooden walls and into the room inside.

Jonathan did not have the time to let the world stand still and stare desperately at the hole in the wall in the vain hope that he see the fine wolfhound head or lashing tail reappear. He leapt to his feet, his hand moving instinctively to the blade hidden in his sleeve. The knife slid smoothly into his hand and years of training took over as he flung the knife at Elliot's chest.

His skills were not in top form and the knife stuck in Elliot's leg. The mage looked down at the hilt blooming suddenly from his thigh. Jonathan was running towards him and Elliot tried to cast a spell to stop him

"You're an idiot," Jonathan hissed, blocking Elliot's weak attempt at a blood-freezing spell with ease. Jonathan yanked the knife out of Elliot's thigh and pushed the shorter mage to the ground. The blood was spurting very quickly from the wound and Elliot was too weak to even cast the spell that would stop the flow of his life's blood from his body. He was truly powerless now. Jonathan watched with grim satisfaction as the blood fountained from Elliot's artery.

Jonathan hissed a spell and Elliot dropped unconscious. His next spell quickly closed up the hole in Elliot's leg.

"Jonathan, look out!" screamed a familiar voice. Jonathan whirled around and saw Eris's kidnapper running full tilt towards him with his rapier drawn. Jonathan twisted to the side and used the long knife he had just drawn from Elliot's leg to block the sword thrust aimed towards his heart.

The man chuckled grimly, making Jonathan dance back and out of reach of that sword. "Not so sure of yourself, now, are you mage?" he taunted.

Jonathan glared at his foe. "You're an idiot too," he said with contempt. With a casual gesture of his non-fighting hand, Jonathan sent a fireball towards the man's head. It was deflected away, leaving the man still smiling.

"Did you think I was foolish enough to go up against a mage without taking care to have protection first?"

"Yes," Jonathan answered. "You haven't done anything intelligent yet, why would you start now?"

For something like the fifth time that day, Jonathan wished he was well rested and at full strength as opposed to dead tired and nearly drained. On an ordinary day, he could rip through that magical protection as if it were tissue paper. Now, he found himself backing slowly away as the man threatened him with a long, pointy stick.

Vincent stared on in dismay, watching his nephew battle against the other man. He wanted desperately to run in and help, but it was dangerous to interfere with another man's duel. If he tried to do anything, he was just as likely as Jonathan to end up stuck through with a blade and that would do no one any good. And so he remained on the sidelines, watching and praying that Jonathan somehow survive.

Jonathan fought bravely, as bravely as a man with a blade that was one-fourth the size of his enemies could. He did not forget that his Eris had yet to appear from inside the house but his past twenty-four hours had been so hellish that another possible tragedy pretty much got taken in stride.

Joshua and Lizzie were good teachers and, when they were not the experts in the field, they hired them and made sure that their children had the information they needed to stay alive. Jonathan was no master swordsman, but he was proficient and was, as his dour master had once said, more likely to stick the other man than get stuck himself; which was all an amateur could really ask for.

He danced around the blade that kept darting towards him in search of an opening. His foe was being cautious and it dawned on Jonathan that the other man had never really been in this sort of duel before either. It was then that Jonathan realized what he was going to have to do.

"This is quite the fair fight," Jonathan taunted, ducking aside from yet another blow. "Are you using such a long sword in order to compensate? Is that why she ran away from you?"

The man's face turned an ugly red and his movements towards Jonathan became even angrier.

"It's probably because you've grown old," Jonathan continued. "I would be surprised if you could even unsheathe your sword at all-"

The man dueled faster with Jonathan, his blade moving into the parry and thrust combinations that would bring a competent swordsman close enough to his foe to slay him. Jonathan smiled triumphantly as the man's feet began to move in the dictated patterns and his sword began a thrust to the heart. The man was good and, had Jonathan had a sword in his hand, this would have been the beginning of the end.

Jonathan, however, was not burdened by a sword. He ducked to the side and the rapier sliced across his left shoulder as he dove in towards his foe, knife clutched low in his right hand. The man's body motion carried him forward and he crashed into Jonathan.

The sword clattered to the ground and the man staggered back, clutching the knife sunk deep in his stomach. Jonathan reached down and picked up the discarded sword, breathing heavily. He was not really feeling merciful at the moment and knew a fatal gut wound when he saw one. He had been aiming for one. Jonathan kept the rapier with him in case his defeated foe would attempt to come after him, but he doubted the man had it in him. And if he did, Jonathan would be forced to grant the man a swift death.

"Jonathan," Vincent said, rushing over and grasping his nephew by the shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Jonathan said, shaking him off. "I have to go find Eris. I have to make sure she's alright."

Vincent followed Jonathan to the side of the house and helped him through the hole Elliot had blasted in the wall. Eris was laying on the floor with her eyes closed.

Jonathan felt a lump rise in his throat and fought back tears. "Eris," he whispered, crouching down next to her and reaching down to touch her head. "Eris, sweetheart?"

She raised her head weakly and whined softly, licking his hand. He took a deep breath and stroked her fur gently. She laid her head back in his lap and sighed contentedly. Jonathan's fingers probed her head cautiously. There was a large bump on the back of her head and her eyes were a little out of focus, but she did not seem to be too badly wounded. Jonathan's eyes roamed over the rest of her form, checking to make sure all of her limbs were lying normally and there were no visible wounds. He had no doubts that she was bruised, but she looked like she would be all right.

The sunlight coming in through the hole in the wall was blocked out by an approaching figure. It was their erstwhile foe, who seemed determined that nothing, not even a deadly wound in his belly would stop him. Jonathan looked up just in time to see his uncle draw his sword and run the man through. He fell to the floor, dead from a thrust to the heart.

"Damn," Jonathan said rather philosophically. "I was rather hoping he would die from the stomach wound, those are far more painful."

Vincent looked down at his nephew, a mixture of shock and amusement in his eyes. "Look at it this way," he replied, "Now there's no chance of the mage insisting that she heal him."

"True," Jonathan reflected.

"Now," Vincent continued, "Your sisters did not give me and Belle all that much information last night, so I'm rather wondering if you could tell me what is going on here?"

"That," said the icy voice of the mage whose house had been, up until ten minutes ago, intact and corpse-free, "Is exactly what I want to know as well."

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – And, to make up for all the buildup of the last four chapters, I hereby present some action! Granted, not all that much because I simply couldn't see Jonathan as the sort to agree to a long duel when a simple thrust of a blade is sufficient and, honestly, I don't know enough about swordplay to accurately write a duel (especially when only one person has a sword).

These are all the excuses as to why this is short. Don't worry; things are far from over. And for those of you who are scared that this might be the end of the action, remember that I haven't done the "meanwhile, back at the farm" part of this and, hopefully, you will get to see Joshua positively explode. Should be fun!

I'd like to apologize for not responding to reviews this time around, I was absolutely swamped with work and would not have had time to finish this chapter if it wasn't for the mind boggling numbness of yesterday combined with lack of internet access. But I wanted to thank you guys for reviewing and letting me know you're still here and reading and enjoying (and, in some people's cases threatening me to try and make things happen faster…it tends to work!). So yeah, thanks, you guys are the absolute greatest.

Last, but not least, the link to the latest Gilld artwork is here - http:// jabenami. deviantart. com/art/Diana-Gilld-70277431 except without the spaces. See you soon!


	18. Transformation, Part Deux

**Chapter 18**

_However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results._

Sir Winston Churchill

Jonathan was, for one of the few times in his life, speechless. All he could do was stare up into the face of the mage, who was bearing down on him in a most ominous manner, and stammer.

"Well," she growled. "I'm waiting."

"There really is a good explanation for this," Vincent said rather weakly.

"Yes? Then I expect to hear it from the boy presently. I take him into my house, I heal him, I give him safety and how am I repaid?"

"I vanquished the evil," Jonathan suggested rather meekly.

"You ran a knife through one of the Princes of France!"

"Same thing," Jonathan responded, waving one hand rather airily. He was quaking in his boots, but he had been shouted at and berated far too many times in his short life not to know how to respond insouciantly.

"You killed a king," she repeated, her face about three inches from his and her eyes glittering angrily. "Even you, little Gilld, are not immune from the consequences of such actions. Do you have any inkling of the problems you have just created?"

"I had to protect Eris," Jonathan answered defiantly. "I would have ripped God out of his heavens to save her, so the death of one heartless prince who nearly…who more than deserved it is of no concern of mine."

Eris whined softly, nuzzling at Jonathan's hand, which had stopped petting her head and were now clenched in her fur. She couldn't figure out what was wrong with her master and wanted to make it better.

"And this is Eris?" said the mage derisively. "You'd end the world to save your dog."

"Genevieve," Belle said in her calmest and most soothing voice. "May I present the Princess Adéle Delamater, currently a little out of sorts."

This was the first time Jonathan had heard the mage referred to as anything other than, well, the mage. The name rang a slight bell in the back of his mind, but he was far too occupied with the present to give it much thought.

Genevieve blinked. "You kidnapped the Princess, turned her into a dog and then killed her father!?" she nearly screeched at Jonathan.

"No!" Jonathan roared back, having learned how to roar from his father and having gotten quite good at it. "Well, actually, I did turn her into a dog, but it was to save her."

Genevieve snorted in disbelief.

"Adéle showed up at our door about six months ago," Jonathan said, trying to keep his voice at a reasonable level, since Eris had started visibly when he last shouted. "We had no idea who she was, no idea where she'd come from and all we knew was that she was terrified of just about everyone and would barely speak." Jonathan was forcing himself to stroke Eris's fur to keep himself calm. "She stayed at Gilld Hall for the winter and became friends with my siblings and myself and possibly my mother, the jury is still out. Then we went to London for the season and, well, I had grown rather fond of her and…" Jonathan trailed off.

Belle and Vincent shared a private smile.

"Anyway, while we were at Almack's, Eri-err, Adéle was kidnapped by these two men, one of whom was her new husband, the other his associate." The way Jonathan said "new husband", one would think the word was filled with poison and bile. "In order to prevent him from consummating their marriage, I turned her into a dog." Jonathan's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Then my mother and I set off to rescue her and the rest is, as they say, history."

Genevieve had not gotten as far as she was in life by ignoring people. She listened carefully to Jonathan's story and, moreover, was inclined to believe him. He, was, after all, Lizzie Gilld's son. And the fact that Lizzie had come along and nearly died seemed to indicate that this was something worth risking one's life for. Or that Lizzie hadn't developed any more sense since last they had met.

There was one thing, however, that needed some clarification. "And where is this lover of Adéle's who sought to take advantage of her?" the mage asked, her voice far softer than it had been up until new.

Jonathan grinned wolfishly. "Lying dead with a knife in his belly, right over there."

Genevieve shook her head. "That's her father, Jonathan."

"What?" Jonathan asked in a low and deadly voice.

"That man is her father. I've met him before. Prince Armand-Jean Delamater. I've even met his daughter Adéle once or twice, when she a sad little girl dressed all in black after her mother's death. There were some interesting stories about that."

"As fascinating as all this is," Jonathan drawled, "You are still wrong. This is the man who married her. Well, more accurately, this is the man who tried to defile her before I transformed her."

Genevieve paled visibly. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"I was watching," Jonathan answered. "Through the magic mirror. That's how I cast the spell."

"Through a mirror?" the mage asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

"Yes," Jonathan confirmed. "Trust me, whoever this man is, he thought he had the right to bed my Eris. He was wrong." The cold fury in Jonathan eyes was familiar to anyone who had ever met his father.

"Perhaps the best course of action would be to change Adéle back and ask her to explain," Vincent suggested, finally managing to get a word in edgewise.

"That's going to take a lot of power," Genevieve said.

"I can give you what's left of mine," Jonathan said courteously.

"I think no-"

"I doubt it'll kill me. And if it does, I'll just mean I won't have to face my father." He shrugged philosophically.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. "Very well, Jonathan. You may assist me, as much as I allow you too and no more than that. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jonathan answered meekly.

"Now, how did you accomplish this in the first place?"

"When we found Eris," Jonathan said, "She was dressed in the skin of a shaggy wolfhound. There was some weird magic involved, I'm still not sure what, but we used that skin to make her take the shape of the animal it belonged to."

"A fairly simple spell," Genevieve said cautiously.

"Made more complicated by the fact that we were several miles away and needed to use a mirror to send the skin through. We used Hogarten's Great Liquifier."

"You used-"

"Yes," Jonathan said, cutting the mage off. "We needed the power."

"And you used a magical mirror to do this?"

"We did," Jonathan confirmed.

"Then there's a very easy way to break the spell," Genevieve answered. "Break the mirror and the spell will revert back to a simple transformation. I can take it off easily."

"I know that. There isn't, by any chance, another way to do it?" Jonathan asked rather hopefully.

"Sure, get me twenty five or so mages you want made aware of the situation and we'll work together to wrest the spell out of the grip of the mirror, which should take about a month."

Jonathan groaned. "Breaking the mirror it is, then." He paused and thought for a moment. "Can I have a large piece of paper with which to write?"

All four of his companions, Eris included, stared at him in surprise. Of course, Eris's stare was because Jonathan was attempting to get to his feet and doing a very poor job of it, at least form her point of view.

"And a hand," Jonathan added, leaning heavily on the walls of the house to remain standing. "I could use some help here."

Vincent hurried forward to support his nephew, who graced him with a grateful smile.

"And why do you need the piece of paper?" Genevieve asked, glaring at Joshua in a way that reminded him of his sister at her most volatile.

"The mirror only shows pictures, " Jonathan explained. "If I want to communicate with whoever has the thing, I'm going to need to use something they can see."

"Your little sister has the mirror, right?" Belle asked. "At least, that was the impression I got when she gave me your message."

"I hope one of my sisters still has the mirror," Jonathan answered. "If not, well, let's just hope it isn't my father."

"Why are you so afraid of speaking to Joshua?" Belle asked curiously.

Jonathan turned slightly red. "He, um, hasn't been informed about mother's accident. If he got the mirror, it means he knows what happened and I'm going to be skinned alive and boiled in oil."

Vincent and Genevieve chuckled. Jonathan glared at them. "I wasn't kidding."

"Let's get that paper," Belle said, resting a hand on the mage's shoulder and leading her through the broken wall and into the room beyond.

They reappeared a few moments later, sans writing implements. "We had a better idea," said the mage. "Vincent, if you could support your nephew?"

Jonathan was about to protest, but a ferocious look from his uncle quelled anything he might want to say. He allowed Vincent to pull him to his feet and keep him upright as they made their way into the house through the more conventional means of the front door.

Set up in the room was a large slate set up on an easel with a piece of chalk resting. Vincent guided Jonathan to the chair Belle had drawn up next to the easel and the boy sank gratefully into it.

"Now, what are we writing?" Genevieve asked. She picked up the chalk and held it poised above the slate.

"Just write 'Break the mirror'," was Jonathan's almost immediate answer.

"And you think they'll just listen?" Vincent and Genevieve asked at the exact same moment.

"I hope they do," Jonathan said with a shrug. "But if they don't, then I'm prepared to bet that the first thing that whoever it is will do is contact me and demand to know why. And then I can use the chalkboard to explain myself and he or she'll hopefully listen."

The message was soon written, in as big a font as they could fit on the board.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Belle asked, stroking Eris's head affectionately.

"Actually," Jonathan said sheepishly, "There is. Can I possibly have a mug of tea?"

Genevieve laughed and flashed a smile at Jonathan. "I think I can manage that. After you've had your wounds treated, of course."

Jonathan was soon settled in with his arm bandaged and a large cup of tea held in the other hand. Eris was resting her chin on his knee and gazing up adoringly at him, hoping that he would put the thing in his hand down so that he could pet her again. But she was reasonably content, for now. She just hoped her master was going to be alright soon, she hated smelling blood on him.

Diana and Anthony had managed to stay out of their father's way all night by hiding in the wine cellar and building up the cloaking spells on the mirror so that not even Joshua would be able to find it. Diana wasn't entirely sure about the last reinforcement, but they had been halfway through a bottle of excellent champagne by that time and she wasn't entirely in the mood to care.

Anduin found them a few hours later. Diana was resting against one of the casks, her legs stretched out in front of her. Anthony was curled up next to her, his head resting on her shoulder.

It was a rather sweet picture, Anduin thought to himself, but knowing that Joshua was pacing upstairs, waiting for them to get home rather ruined the effect.

"Diana, darling," Anduin said sweetly. "Wake up."

Diana groaned and stretched, causing Anthony to shift and fall over, which only served to make Anduin laugh.

"What is it?" Diana asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"I was under the impression you weren't home," Anduin said and was pleased to see Diana had the grace to blush.

"I'm sorry, Anduin, we had to make ourselves scarce for a while. Father was in a bit of a temper."

"He still is," Anduin answered, reaching down and pulling his wife to her feet.

"Perfect," Anthony groaned, "What do we do now?"

Anduin looked at them. "There's something I'm missing here. If you want me to pretend I didn't find you here—"

"That would be wonderful, love," Diana answered. "I just…don't want to face him quite yet."

"If you're hiding from Joshua, I can understand that. You know, this would be a lot easier if you could tell me where the magic mirror is. That's why he wants you to come back, you know."

"We know," they chorused.

"Ah. So you didn't _accidentally_ take the mirror with you. There's something you want to hide from Joshua…" he paused. "Lizzie or Jonathan?"

Anthony gave Diana a wide-eyed don't-tell-him look, which his older sister ignored. "Mother," Diana answered. "She was shot."

Anduin swore viciously. "Is she..?"

"Dead?" Anthony filled in for him, glaring at Anduin. "No, not yet. And if all goes as planned and Jonathan gets her to medical care, she won't die. But something tells me that having Jonathan distracted by our father shouting and screaming at him would be less than helpful."

Anduin reached out and grasped Anthony's shoulder. "I'm sorry, little brother, I didn't know. You're right, the worst thing that could happen now would be for Joshua to find out. You have the mirror hidden down here?"

Anthony could only nod, grateful beyond belief for his brother-in-law's immediate acceptance of his words.

"As best as we can," Diana answered. "But I think that he's going to find it sooner or later."

"He will," Anduin answered. "And the best thing to do for now is make sure that neither of you have it. So, I'm going to go upstairs with the mirror, tell Joshua that I found nothing and then drop the mirror off with Abigail. You two can sneak up in a few hours, not even Joshua can stay awake forever. And we'll take tomorrow morning when it comes."

Anduin did as he said and, not even two hours later, he was joined in bed by Diana. He reached out and drew his wife into his arms, kissing her forehead gently.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

"I think so," she answered, resting her head on his chest. "It's still almost surreal to me. I saw Mother just lying there and I still can't believe it."

"Don't think about it," Anduin murmured soothingly. "Everything will be fine tomorrow morning." He wasn't saying that because he knew it to be true, but because Diana needed to believe it was true and they both knew it.

They awoke the next morning to the sounds of two little girls clambering onto the bed. Diana snuggled closer to Anduin, who woke up and looked at his daughters with bleary eyes. "What is it?" he asked, reaching out and giving his younger daughter a hand to climb up.

"Anthony is in big trouble," Ariel said seriously. "Grandfa is yelling so loud at him."

"Yelling very loudly," Anduin corrected.

"What time is it?" Diana groaned.

Ariel dove for her father's golden pocket watch, which was sitting by the side of the bed. She opened it carefully and squinted at the numbers. "It's one fifty!" she announced proudly.

"What?" Diana yelped.

"It's ten minutes after ten," Anduin corrected, trying not to chuckle at the look of disappointment on his eldest daughter's face. "But late enough that we should go try and rescue Anthony."

When they arrived on the scene, Anthony was standing in the corner of the room, resolutely facing away from his father so that the latter could not see the bitter tears on his cheeks. Joshua was saying nothing, just glaring at the back of his youngest son's head with a look that was both furious and disappointed at the same time.

As soon as Diana entered, however, he whirled on her.

"Well?" he asked angrily, checking himself only when he saw his granddaughters shrink down behind their father. "What's going on?"

"We were called out and got back at around five this morning," Diana answered, keeping her face as composed as possible.

"I'm not a fool, Diana," Joshya snapped. "I ask you two about the mirror and Anthony claims to have left it upstairs. When I go to look for it, I end up searching all over the house, only to discover that it is nowhere to be found and someone has put many layers of warding spells on it, to the point where I can neither summon nor locate it. I want the mirror back now."

"We don't have it," Diana answered. "I have no idea where Anthony may have left it, but neither of us have seen it since yesterday afternoon. I'm sorry you can't find it, but taking your paranoia about Mother out on Anohony is not going to do any good whatsoever. Unless you're accusing him of having hidden it…" Diana trailed off pointedly.

Abigail was sitting on the windowsill in the next room, listening to the battle going on in the next room. She shook her head as she listened to her father and elder sister argue—those two had wills of iron and could go at it all day. The magic mirror was resting in one of the pockets in her gown, waiting quietly to be revealed. Abigail had been checking it periodically, hoping that Lizzie would wake up soon so that they could give the device to their father and let him have a go at her instead of them.

Abigail checked again and raised one eyebrow delicately. Her mother was still sleeping peacefully, but next to the bed was a giant chalkboard with the words "Break the Mirror" written on them in a large, steady hand. Jonathan was sitting next to the board, nursing a mug of tea and gazing out into the distance with worried eyes.

It would be a risk to talk to him, Abigail mused. If anyone walked in and saw her talking to the mirror, all hell would break loose. She drew the curtains around her and cast the spell anyway.

"Jonathan," she hissed towards the mirror.

Her older brother cocked his head and listened for a moment before taking the chalk and writing 'Abby?' in a shaky hand on the board.

"Of course it's me, you dolt," she answered. "What are you playing at?"

Jonathan shook his head and handed the chalk to their Aunt Belle, who was standing next to them. Belle carefully erased the board before writing, in small but clear letters, 'We need the mirror destroyed in order to free Eris. It is the only way.'

Abigail had to squint slightly to read the words, but when she did, she smiled. If the mirror _needed_ to be broken to rescue Eris, then they had no good reason to keep hiding it. They could just shatter it and be done. After all, it would explain all their secrecy and motivations to Joshua, since who would really want to tell him that the mirror had been broken, for good reason or otherwise. Plus it would buy them time for Lizzie to wake up, even if Joshua chose to go after them. And if it would save Eris…

"Just one question," Abigail said. Jonathan nodded expectantly. "Will Mother be alright?"

A woman who, up until then, had been standing out of sight, moved into the frame and took the chalk from Belle's hand. 'She will be asleep until tomorrow, at the very least, but she will survive and should be none the worse for her adventures in a few weeks.'

Abigail had focused the mirror on the board in order to see the words clearly. What she saw made her smile, the worry of her mother's impending death banished from her heart.

"Alright, Jonathan," she said with a laugh. "You'd better thank me for this, Father will be furious when he sees the shards."

Jonathan nodded fervently, then saluted her and blew her a kiss.

"Goodbye, all," she whispered softly as she rose to her feet and left the confines of the windowsill. Taking a metal statuette from one of the small end tables, Abigail raised it high and smashed it down on the mirror's surface. The glass in the frame shattered and, as Abigail lifted the mirror up, the once enchanted shards fell out and scattered across the table.

A wave of her hand was sufficient to clean them up and Abigail carried the broken mirror out into the hall where Diana and Joshua were engaged in a silent glaring match.

"Is this what you're looking for?" asked Abigail quietly, causing all eyes to turn towards her and grow wide in horror as they took in the implications of the empty frame.

Jonathan knew the second the mirror had been shattered. One moment, Eris the dog was crouched at his feet with her head resting on his knee and the next, she was kneeling before them all, covered by nothing but a long, matted cloak that looked like it came right from the fur of a wolfhound.

"Eris," Jonathan breathed, rising carefully to his feet and putting his mug of tea down deliberately on the nearest surface. "Eris," he repeated, his voice rising ever so slightly. "Are you alright?"

She sat up slowly, blinking in a disoriented manner and looking around at a room that was suddenly filled with so much more light and color. And then she saw Jonathan. Green eyes met gray for a brief moment and then Jonathan was kneeling on the floor beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Eris breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that she was being held by Jonathan and she was safe. It seemed to her that nothing could be better than this, but then Jonathan drew back and kissed her deeply and she found herself proved utterly wrong.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – As should be obvious, the story is winding down to a close. Most of the problems have been dealt with, other than that Eris still needs to tell her story (which is only a surprise for those of you who have never read Donkeyskin) and Joshua needs to find out that his wife was nearly killed.

There aren't that many notes in this chapter. Just one thing about the mirror. I make a big deal about only being able to use it to see, not to hear. For those of you who have watched the movie recently and remember that the Beast hears Belle saying she doesn't want to get to know him, I'm just going to note that that aspect of the mirror was lost the first time that Joshua accidentally shattered the mirror. Lizzie rebuilt it, but imperfectly and, as such, the mirror can only transmit visual information, not audile.

And Joshua isn't trying to be mean, he's just stressing out over not being able to check up on Lizzie and Jonathan. For those of you who have ever had their cell phones die at an inopportune moment and then return somewhere and get hell over having been cut off and the other person thinking you're dead in a ditch (this may just be my friends, then), you might understand Joshua.

Oh, and for those of you who read "Learning to Love" (my B&tB WIP consider this a plug), the use of the name Genevieve in both places is purely coincidental. I named each character separately and did not even think of the other.

Thank you, as always, to my darling reviewers, both new and old. If you review, I promise you a cookie! Well, at least a reply. Cookies are negotiable and won't necessarily ship well even if you are willing to give me your address. But still, you're all wonderful and I love you.

Levana (Damian)


	19. A Modest Proposal

**Chapter 19**

"_Does it really matter what these affectionate people do-- so long as they don't do it in the streets and frighten the horses!"_

Mrs. Patrick Campbell

Genevieve, Belle and Vincent did the only thing they could, under the circumstances. The looked pointedly away from the newly reunited couple and either out the window, at the floorboards or at their own fingernails.

"Eris," Jonathan murmured, breaking the kiss to hold her close. "Eris, I am never letting you out of my sight again."

She chuckled weakly, resting her head on his warm chest and feeling strangely at peace. Jonathan carefully stroked her hair, wanting to run his fingers through the tangled locks, but afraid to tug even slightly.

There was only so long, however, that their companions could ignore them. Genevieve finally interrupted Jonathan by tapping him on his shoulder.

He looked up at her with obvious exasperation. "I'm busy."

"It seems to me like you're just sitting there," Genevieve retorted. "And, as a professional mage healer, I would like to take a look at Adéle to make sure that she's alright."

"Oh," Jonathan responded rather meekly. "I suppose I could let you do that. Eris, sweetheart, this is Genevieve, the best mage in France." A little flattery never hurt.

Genevieve gave Jonathan an amused look. "You will have to let go of her for me to examine her."

Jonathan rose to his feet and pulled Eris with him. She kept the cloak wrapped tightly around her—she was fully cognizant of having nothing underneath it. Jonathan kept one arm tightly around her shoulders, as if daring anyone to come near.

"This isn't letting go of her," Genevieve pointed out.

Jonathan dithered for a few more moments. "I'll see you outside in a bit, alright, Eris?"

He left the room with Belle and Vincent in tow, leaving Eris alone with Genevieve. Genevieve looked the girl up and down, watching as she huddled from view.

"Well," the mage said finally, "I'm not going to be able to take care of you if I can't see under that awful fur. Let's take a look and make sure Jonathan hasn't left you with a tail."

Eris was reluctant to obey, but Genevieve's demeanor reminded her of Abigail in a way, which was rather reassuring. And so she did as she was told.

Eris emerged from the room about fifteen minutes later, dressed in a gown on loan from Genevieve. Jonathan was, by that time, pacing the small path in front of the house, to the amusement of his relatives.

"Eris," he said excitedly, rushing up the path to meet her. She let him catch her in his arms to kiss her again. Jonathan held her close and rubbed his nose against hers affectionately before kissing her forehead, her cheeks and finally her lips.

Belle and Vincent shared a smile and Belle leaned her head against her husband's shoulder.

"Is she alright?" Jonathan asked Genevieve after he broke the kiss. Eris was still a little dazed from the experience and contented herself to nestling in his arms. Jonathan tightened his embrace ever so slightly and rested his chin on her head.

"She's perfectly fine," Genevieve answered and saw Jonathan sigh with relief. "Physically, that is. She's had a very traumatic experience though."

"Does she remember any of it?"

"Why don't you ask her?" Vincent said dryly.

Eris chuckled. "Yes, Jonathan, why don't you ask me?"

"Alright, Eris. How was being a furball?"

Eris raised an eyebrow at him in an uncanny imitation of his sister's favorite expression. "Quite fun. I think I'll have to look into doing it again some time."

Jonathan sighed and shook his head. "I've had enough trouble chasing after you this time."

"Thank you for that, Jonathan," she said, turning serious. "I…I don't know what I would have done otherwise. If you hadn't saved me."

"Eris," Jonathan whispered, "I will always come for you. No matter what. Always." He kissed her again, reveling in the ability to do so.

"Adéle—" Genevieve interrupted.

"Eris," she corrected softly. "My name is Eris now."

"Eris, then." Genevieve paused. "I have to ask, what happened between you and your fiancée that drove you to run away?"

"How much do you know?" Eris asked.

"Not enough," Genevieve answered. "All the information given was that your father found you the perfect beau and that you ran away between the ceremony and the wedding night."

Eris shook her head, doing her best to keep her face stuck in as neutral an expression as possible. "The perfect beau," she said, her eyes glowing with hate. "Of course he _would_ think that."

"Who was he?" Jonathan asked. "I mean, he's lying dead in the courtyard, but who was he?"

"No, her father is lying dead in the courtyard," Genevieve corrected. "Her fiancé's identity is still unknown."

"They're one and the same," Eris said, gasping softly. "God help me, he wanted to marry me."

"That was your father?" Jonathan asked in disbelief. "The man who tried to, well,"

"Rape me?" Eris filled in for Jonathan. "Break me?"

"I wouldn't let him," Jonathan growled. "Eris, I would never have let him!"

"I know," she said almost dreamily, linking her arms around his waist. "You keep me safe."

Jonathan felt a flush of pride, but the underlying hatred and disgust was still more than present.

"How could this have happened?" Vincent asked. "How could we not have known?"

"Eris?" Belle said softly, reaching out to the girl and resting a cautious hand on her shoulder. "Would you feel comfortable telling us the story?"

Jonathan saw the look on her face. "No."

"Not yet, at any rate," Eris amended, her fingers twisting nervously in Jonathan's shirt. "It's just…I, Jonathan, I can't!"

"Shh," he murmured, petting her hair. "No one is going to make you do anything you don't want, Eris. Don't be afraid, sweetheart." Jonathan rocked her gently back and forth as she started to cry. She wept silently and Jonathan doubted he would have realized had he not been the one holding her and feeling each tiny sob as it made her tremble.

Belle smiled lightly as she met Jonathan's eyes and saw the pleading gaze that was clearly asking that the three of them leave the two lovers alone.

She took her husband's arm affectionately and started leading him away.

"Where are you taking me?" Vincent protested.

"Away," Belle said pointedly. "And, Genevieve, you should come as well."

"And leave the two of them alone?" Genevieve responded. "Hardly."

Vincent rolled his eyes, taking his wife's side now that he understood what was going on. "What in heaven's name do you think is going to happen?"

He had a point there, Genevieve had to concede. Besides, in her professional opinion, Eris needed a good cry and a shoulder to do it on more than anything else right now. And while Jonathan could certainly be an idiot, he clearly loved the girl. Genevieve allowed herself to be swept up in Belle's wake and followed the Prince and his wife into the cottage.

Jonathan stood still for a minute or two, just letting Eris cry out her tears. Two minutes swiftly became ten and, while Jonathan would have stood there all day for her, his foot was starting to ache.

"Eris?" he said cautiously, pulling away for a brief moment.

She wanted to clutch at him and beg him not to go, but the reassuring circle of his arms were still there, so she mastered the impulse. "Hmm?" she replied, trying not to sniffle.

"Shall we go take a walk towards the lake?" Jonathan suggested, "The better to thwart Genevieve's well-meaning attempts to spy on us through the window."

Eris looked up and saw one of the curtains fall back into place. She laughed weakly. "Yes, let's go."

Jonathan slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him. As they made their slow way though the grass, Eris grew courageous enough to slip her arm around his waist as well. Jonathan grinned broadly and, when they reached the meadow, he turned to face her.

"You still owe me a dance," he said, taking both her hands and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "From Almack's remember? You wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"

"Not to a gentleman, no," she answered.

Jonathan tapped her lightly on the nose. "And what about me?"

"There's no music to dance to," she evaded.

"We can dance without music," Jonathan said airily. He pulled Eris forward and whirled her around.

Before long, they were both elated and exhausted. Jonathan was the first to flop down on the grass, claiming convalescence as his excuse. Eris followed suit, landing an arm's length away and gazing up at the clouds.

"Everything is so different now," she mused aloud.

"Hmm?" Jonathan queried, rolling over so that he could rest his chin on his hand and stare at Eris.

"As opposed to when I was a dog," she clarified. "When I was a dog, everything smelled!"

Jonathan chuckled.

"Not in a bad way. Even the things that I would have thought would smell awful…they didn't. There were pretty smells and ugly smells. Which was good, because there was no color. Did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"I couldn't see color—everything was just shades of gray. And there were all these high-pitched noises that no one else seemed able to hear. Everything was so interesting and vivid, I rather miss it."

"If I'm entitled to a say in matters," Jonathan began, "I move that you remain human. I, for one, prefer to be kissed than slobbered upon."

"I didn't slobber on you!" Eris protested. "Did I?"

"Only once," Jonathan answered somberly, "But, after much soul searching, I found it in my heart to forgive you."

"You're so arrogant," Eris grumbled.

"It's part of my charm."

Eris snorted. "Who said you were charming?"

"Well, it's nice to see you back to your old self, wounding my fragile ego."

Eris nodded, not rising to the bait this time. "It is nice to be back. Jonathan, I…" She sat up to meet his gaze.

"Come here, Eris," he coaxed, allowing the previous moment's levity to slip away. She crawled over to where Jonathan was lying and sat back on her heels, unsure where to go.

Jonathan sat up and wrapped his arms around her once more, pulling her into his lap. She went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder and relaxing.

"You still smell nice, you know," she murmured, nuzzling his shoulder.

"That's good," Jonathan said with a bit of a laugh. "What do I smell like?"

Eris paused and thought about it. "Yourself, I suppose. There's no other way to describe it."

"Yes, sweetheart."

Eris giggled, she decided she liked the sound of those words from Jonathan, though she rather doubted she would often hear them said in that meek tone.

"Jonathan?" she asked after a few moments of silence elapsed.

"Hmm?"

"What happens now?"

Jonathan blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, my father's been killed, so I don't have anything to run away from anymore, and the kingdom needs a ruler."

This was a thought that simply hadn't occurred to Jonathan. "You want to go back and _rule_?" he asked incredulously.

"Why?" she demanded. "Don't you think I can do it?"

"Of course I think you can," Jonathan answered immediately, well aware he was treading on thin ice and inclined to blame Abigail for teaching Eris fault finding behavior. "I'd just rather you didn't go somewhere where I can't follow."

"I was rather hoping you might…I don't know, come with?" Jonathan didn't need to see Eris's face, he could tell by the diffident tone of her voice how hard this was for her to say. She had assumed, after all the affection of the afternoon, that he meant to stay with her. But maybe she had been wrong.

"Eris, what would happen if you brought the heir to the greatest mage dynasty in England if not the whole world back to France in a position of political power?"

He had point and she had no desire to concede it. "You think rather highly of yourself."

"You knew that already and that doesn't answer my question."

"So what am I supposed to do, leave my kingdom to rot?"

"You left it with your father, I truly fail to see the difference."

"Yes, but if I go back, then they'll see…"

"See what?"

"It's nothing," Eris said, starting to get to her feet. She was stopped by Jonathan's arms, which were wrapped firmly around her and showed no signs of loosening.

"It's not nothing," he insisted. "It's something that's bothering you and I want to know how to fix it."

"I can't talk about that just yet. I can't, it's not that I don't want to, but every time I think about it, my stomach ties up in knots and I can see his eyes, his wild terrifying eyes and I'm afraid that he will devour me alive. Please don't make me talk about him!"

"I won't," Jonathan said with a heavy sigh. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." He paused, the words he was so anxious to say resting on the tip of his tongue. But now was not the time, so he bit them back with a sigh and let go. Eris let the topic of going home drop as well.

Their return to the cottage was marked by the three adults fussing over them. It was agreed that Lizzie was, by now, well enough to move and that it would make the most sense for them to return to Vincent's castle. Jonathan stared wistfully out the window, rather wishing that he had been able to spend more time in this small provincial town. He hoped that when Lizzie awoke, if Joshua had not killed him yet, she would answer some of his questions.

They were greeted at the castle gate by Jonathan's second oldest cousin, Aleron. The Crown Prince looked much like his father, with long golden hair and fair skin, though he had his mother's nose, which Jonathan privately thought was an improvement.

"So what catastrophe happened in my absence?" Vincent asked his eldest son.

Aleron chuckled weakly. "Everything is fine over here, but I spent a quarter of an hour speaking to Uncle Joshua through the crystal ball."

Jonathan tensed, which made Eris, who had hitherto been asleep on his shoulder, stir.

"What's wrong?" she asked sleepily.

"How much did you tell him?" Jonathan demanded of Aleron.

"Only what's common knowledge. Mother and Father went off to Molyneaux to meet up with you and help you out of some scrape you were in."

"You didn't specify what?" Jonathan continued.

Aleron shrugged. "I didn't know what. All I said was that Lizzie was injured and they were going to help."

Jonathan groaned. "And there goes my head."

"Why?" Eris asked curiously. "He's not going to blame you for it, is he?"

"Of course he will," Jonathan retorted. "And he'd be right to do so."

"Don't blame Aleron," Belle said to her nephew, "I told your sisters to make sure Joshua was brought up to date on the situation.

Eris rolled her eyes. "That's little guarantee of anything, your Majesty. Unless, of course, you made them promise to do so within a certain time period."

Jonathan looked at Eris with something close to awe. "Sweetheart, that was impressive! When did you learn to understand my siblings so well?"

She shrugged modestly. "I've had a few lessons from Abigail."

Jonathan shuddered. "Angels and ministers of grace defend us!"

"Something is rotten in the state of England?" Aleron finished, flashing his cousin a quick grin. "In any event, Uncle said he would be here by sunset, Friday."

"That gives me two days to fly home and hope we do not cross paths," Jonathan muttered.

"Do be serious," Vincent said, mastering the temptation to cuff Jonathan's head.

"I was."

Eris covered his mouth with her hand. "Quiet, you," she said affectionately.

"As my lady commands," Jonathan said indistinctly.

Aleron was watching the two of them with interest. "So this is the poor girl who captured Jonathan's heart?" he remarked quietly to his parents.

Vincent nodded. "Eris, may I present my eldest son, Prince Aleron." Aleron bowed gracefully and Eris curtsied in reply, looking regal despite the borrowed dress from the mage.

"Let's get everyone inside," Belle suggested. "Genevieve, if you will follow me, I'll show you to Lizzie's rooms—I'm sure she'd prefer to sleep there."

Genevieve enlisted Vincent to help carry the Duchess to the latter's rooms and settled down in one the ladies maid's room, ignoring any of Belle's protests that such accommodations were unfitting and maintaining that she wanted to be near her patient.

Night fell and, though the entire castle had gone to bed, Eris found herself unable to sleep. She slipped on her dressing gown and slippers, technically on loan from Belle's eldest daughter Rose, who was now Queen of England, and made her way down the hall. She told herself that she didn't really have any destination in mind, but found herself drawing near Lizzie's rooms.

Eris slipped inside and sat down on the chaise lounge in the sitting room. She was tempted to actually go inside the sickroom to see how Lizzie was doing, but dreaded accidentally waking her or, more importantly, Genevieve. It would have been nice to go and talk to Lizzie again; it felt like months since she had last spoken to the Duchess, not less than a week.

Eris picked up one of the slim volumes sitting on the table and thumbed through it. She was expecting the usual fairy tale collection that was Lizzie's trademark, so she was shocked to discover that it was a book of poems. Intrigued, she began to flip through them.

"Eris?" murmured a low voice. She stirred slightly and blinked her eyes open. Jonathan was looking down at her with an expression both bemused and entertained.

"What are you doing in here?" Eris asked sleepily.

"I was about to ask you the same question. What _are_ you doing in my mother's rooms?"

That woke her up. "Oh, God. I must have fallen asleep while reading here."

"Yes, I gathered as much." Jonathan swiped the book from where it had fallen and started reading. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art move lovely and more temperate-"

"Stop it," Eris grumbled, trying to steal the book back and failing as he backed out of reach and kept reading.

"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee," Jonathan finished declaring. By now, he was standing on one of the chairs, his right foot resting on the table and his arm stretching out towards the ceiling. "It's quite a nice poem," he said, leaping down and landing lightly next to Eris. "Though I've always been more fond of the beginning than the ending." He cupped her chin in his hand. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

She pulled away, blushing furiously. "You're shameless, Jonathan!"

He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I am. Is that so very bad a thing?"

"Perhaps no," Eris conceded as Jonathan pushed her long, unbound hair off her shoulder and gently kissed her pulse. Eris trembled slightly, which made Jonathan far too anxious to continue. He pulled away with some effort and flashed Eris a cheeky grin.

"Come sit with me," he said, patting the couch beside him. She came willingly, half hoping for Jonathan's gentle kissing to resume. "There's something we need to speak about."

"Oh?" she asked, feeling a little disappointed.

"You mentioned, yesterday, that you wanted to go back and take the throne."

Eris cringed, she didn't want to bring this up again.

"While I don't quite understand the impulse, I'm willing to concede that you may need to do this. However, I find that it will prove an infernal nuisance insofar as my plans are concerned." Jonathan realized he was waxing far more eloquent than necessary. "I need to stay in England in order to take over for Father and, for obvious reasons, I cannot forgo the inheritance and pass it on to Anthony. Also, there was enough of an uproar when the connection between this kingdom and my uncle was announced; the idea of one of the French kingdoms having their own personal Gilld would be too much. Everyone would want one and Abigail would never have a moment's peace. And neither would I."

"I…don't quite follow," Eris said softly. "You could still visit me, sometimes, even when you become Duke." There was something hideously painful in those words, a tearing of her heart when she asked herself if she would be content seeing Jonathan on the occasional visit.

"Right," Jonathan said, nearly smacking his head, "I left that part out. And it was the important part too."

"Jonathan..?"

"I apologize for the abruptness of this whole proposal and the fact that I don't have any sort of jewelry to offer you. And I completely forgot to ask your father for permission, but I doubt that matters now. He would have said no anyway. Is there anyone I should ask for permission, by the by?"

Eris stopped and actually thought through the torrent of words. "Jonathan, are you asking me to marry you?"

"I was…getting there, yes. Will you?"

"Marry you?"

"Yes."

"Me? Marry you?"

"Well, you _are_ the only other person in the room. Other than the book of poems and, fond though I am of the bard's work, I'd much rather spend a glorious lifetime at your side."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said affectionately, kissing her nose. "Really. So, do you accept?"

"Of course," she replied, not sure whether to laugh or cry with joy.

"Good," Jonathan said, feeling almost euphoric.

Eris looked at him askance. "Aren't you supposed to kiss me now?"

And he did. And she kissed him back.

"So," Jonathan said, after having spent a blissful twenty minutes with Eris in his arms, basking in the delight of being affianced.

"So," Eris agreed, tucking her head under his chin as she curled up next to him on the couch.

"This still leaves the question of the future unsolved," he reminded her.

She made a noncommittal noise. "Can we take the future as it comes?" Things were different now. After all, she was going to be the Duchess Gilld one day, Queen of a French kingdom almost seemed like a comedown.

Jonathan stroked her hair. "I went through all this trouble to get you back and keep you, it seems like such a waste for a love like ours to fall apart over something stupid."

"It won't," Eris promised, hugging Jonathan tightly. "I promise it won't."

"If you two lovebirds are done in there," said Genevieve, poking her head through the door. "You might want to come inside. Lizzie's awake."

"Lovebirds," Jonathan mused, letting Eris rise to her feet before following suit. "I've never thought of myself as the bird sort."

"Does that make us lovers?" Eris asked.

"That depends," Jonathan answered. "Do you love me?"

The answer was obvious. "Now and forever," Eris breathed, reaching for his hand. Jonathan twined their fingers together.

"Me too, sweetheart," he replied. "Me too."

They walked together through the door.

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – Right, yeah, that took longer than I thought. At least one more chapter, possibly two if I look up after 8 pages again and say "hmm, nothing that I needed to have happen for closure has happened." I'm not including Jonathan and Eris, that one's been obvious since we first met Eris. This is so that I can say I have something in common with Jane Austen – after the first four chapters, you _know_ how it is going to end. But I couldn't exactly deny them their reunion and, while I am trying not to repeat myself in these stories (the author says while writing fairy tales!), Eris needed a little while to deal wither latest encounter with her father.

A word about that. Gross. Now a few more words about it – if you have no interest in my explanatory author's notes, skip down to where I grovel and beg for reviews. Most of you figured it out already that Eris's unconsummated marriage was with her father. No, that wasn't my idea; it's been in the original fairy tale. The bowderlized version has stepfather, the original has him actually sleep with her. I compromised. Also, for those of you who actually read the original and/or Perrault version, you'll notice that my version is remarkable for how often I simply ignored the fairy tale and did what I wanted. This wouldn't be the first time I've taken the fairy tale premise and thrown out the plot, but this one gets an explanation since so few people know the original. You can, err, appreciate what I did in "A Chain of Tales" since you know The Little Mermaid. No one would get any changes I make to Donkeyskin, though. Then again, I don't like the plot of Donkeyskin. (I don't much like the plot of H.C.A.'s Little Mermaid either). I've been biased by the great Robin McKinley who hated it first and rewrote it first (I am, yet again, a pale shadow of my heroes). If you're interested, here's the article I read when I was first researching Dogskin (I will not tell you how much of the story was already written by that time), www. robinmckinley. com/FAQ/FAQ05. html#Deerskin (take the spaces out). Anyway, the premise remains the same, but everything after she runs away is changed. The skin isn't something of her past, but of her future, which made more sense to me, and it was the first kindness that got her back on her feet. And Jonathan bears nothing in common with the original prince. Mostly because Jon's personality was set almost before I first put hand to keyboard. I'm also a vicious little brute with a Wildian attitude(1) towards my writing and was unwilling to let her father go unpunished, as he does in almost all versions. So I let Jonathan at him. In any case, I have very definite opinions about Donkeyskin. And, yes, next chapter will be the flashback of how Eris came to be wandering around the outskirts of Gilld Hall in that cloak.

Which brings me back to where I was. The fact that this didn't happen this chapter was because Jonathan decided to propose first. Silly boy.

One final note – The book of poems is a copy of the Shakespearean sonnets. The one Jonathan reads out loud is reasonably famous – I wanted one people would recognize, so it was this one or "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun", which I just couldn't imagine Jonathan reading to Eris.

Anyway, that's all for this time. Thank you everyone who reviewed last time and everyone who will review this time (subtle? Me?). You're all the best and it really makes me happy to know that you're enjoying my work.

(1)"The good end happily and the bad end unhappily. That is what fiction means." - Oscar Wilde, _The Importance of Being Earnest_. One of my favorite plays!


	20. In Medias Res

**Chapter 20**

"_This is the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world. And while she looks so sad in photographs, I absolutely love her when she smiles."_

_-Nine Days_

Lizzie was sitting up in bed, propped up by several layers of pillows. Her arms were crossed rather belligerently and she was in the midst of an argument with Belle. Genevieve remained standing towards the back of the room, which Jonathan thought was the most sensible thing to be doing under the circumstances.

"I'm perfectly fine," Lizzie insisted, causing her sister-in-law to snort in disbelief. "Really I am!"

"You were shot in the chest," Belle felt the need to point out.

"Yes, but the bullet is gone, my chest is healing and I'm feeling much better."

"I don't care, you're staying in bed until Joshua gets here tomorrow."

Lizzie groaned. "I have one day of freedom left before I'll be put under house arrest for the rest of my life. You mean to deprive me of those as well?"

"Lizzie, surely Joshua will be reasonable-"

Jonathan snorted and even Eris giggled slightly.

Lizzie gave the door one quick glance before turning to Belle in disbelief. "We're not talking about the same brother of yours, are we? And Jonathan, you can come in now, it does not do to lurk in doorways."

"I wasn't lurking," Jonathan protested as he and Eris stood before Lizzie.

"Then I'm not going to ask what you were doing," she responded tartly, making Eris turn a faint shade of pink. Jonathan glared at his mother. She just smiled rather smugly.

"Mother, may I introduce your successor, the future Duchess Gilld-"

"Jonathan, stop it!" Eris yelped.

Lizzie chuckled. "I've found that when a Gilld man gets that annoying, the best thing to do is smack him upside the head."

"I'll have to try that some time," Eris answered, trying to suppress a giant sigh of relief that Lizzie was not mad. Her fears had not been about Jonathan's silly introduction, but she had always been in awe of the Duchess and, honestly, was afraid that Lizzie would not approve of her. Oh, she knew Lizzie _liked_ her and all, but it was one thing to accept a girl for who she was and another to expect her to make a good wife for your son.

Lizzie noticed Eris's sigh anyway. It was practically her job to read people, after all. "Belle, if I promise not to get up, will you and Genevieve leave me alone with my son and daughter-in-law-to-be?"

Belle, who had been grinning widely since Jonathan's introduction, nodded her head. "Of course, Lizzie. And don't traumatize them too much?"

"Who, me?"

Belle rolled her eyes and left the room with Genevieve in tow. The latter looked like she wanted to protest, but did not quite dare. As the door swung shut behind her sister-in-law, Lizzie pushed the covers off and rose to her feet.

"Mother!" Jonathan protested as Lizzie slipped her feet into slippers and tightened the sash on her dressing gown.

"Are you trying to reprimand me for disobeying?" Lizzie asked as she greeted her son with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She then turned to Eris and repeated the action, making the latter flush with pleasure.

"All I'm saying is I'm not the one who was shot recently," Jonathan said with a smile.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and took a seat on the end of the bed. "No one is ever going to let me forget that, will they?"

"Father certainly won't," Jonathan answered. "If he ever finishes tearing strips off my hide for letting you get hurt."

"Let's just hope he doesn't have the full story," Lizzie responded.

"Full story?" Eris asked curiously.

Jonathan winced. "Get your fiancé to tell you later," Lizzie answered. "Speaking of, my heartiest congratulations to the two of you. I think I speak for your father and siblings as well when I say it _took_ you long enough!"

Jonathan burst out laughing and kissed Eris lightly atop her head. Eris smiled as well. "Thank you, your Gra-" she began.

Lizzie raised her hand to stop her. "Not your Grace anymore. You're more than welcome to call me Mother now, but at the very least call me Lizzie. You're family." She paused and reflected on that for a moment. "Though you have been for a while."

"Thank you, you—err, Lizzie," Eris answered, truly touched and feeling completely incapable of calling the Duchess 'Mother'.

"Mother, stop it, you're embarrassing her."

"And you, I gather," Lizzie answered. "So, which of you wants to fill me in on what I missed?"

Eris and Jonathan shared a quick glance, which consisted mostly of Eris pleading with Jonathan to do the speaking and Jonathan being unable to resist anything she asked for.

He gave Lizzie a very brief version of the battle, dwelling far longer on his role in defeating Eris's evil father and much less time on the revelation of her identity.

Of course, that was the part Lizzie was most interested in.

"Very impressive, Jonathan," Lizzie said as he concluded his narrative with the tale of his proposal. "You chose well. Now, Eris, can I ask you a few questions?"

"That depends what they are," Jonathan answered.

Lizzie shot a glare at her eldest son. "I don't recall addressing that to you. Eris..?"

"You want to know what happened," she said quietly.

"I know it's not an easy story to tell," Lizzie answered. "But if you want to marry Jonathan, it would be in your best interest to come out of hiding to do so. And while I would _never_ suggest that the whole world hears this story, we will need to tell them something."

"And it's better if those making up the lies know the truth," Eris finished.

"Which of my children taught you that?"

"All of them," Eris admitted. "It's just…you won't think less of me for it? Either of you?"

"Oh, Eris," Jonathan breathed. "I would never do that!" He wrapped his arms around Eris.

"You don't know that yet," she whispered, turning away from him.

"I do!" Jonathan insisted.

Lizzie bit her lip, remembering a very similar conversation she had had almost twenty-five years before.

"Jonathan, can I speak to Eris in private?"

Jonathan gaped at his mother. "You've _got_ to be joking."

"I'm perfectly serious." The standoff between mother and son that lasted until Eris finally made up her mind. Four months living with the Duchess had taught her many things, none the least of which was that she was usually worth listening to. And that she would not force Eris to say anything against her will. And while Lizzie was intimidating, she was also very kind.

"Jonathan," Eris said softly, taking her fiancé's hand and kissing his fingers softly. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"Then let her say it in front of me," Jonathan sulked.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "This information is on a need to know basis. And it's certainly something you do _not_ need to know."

"But she does?"

"Well, it won't make you feel any better," Lizzie snapped.

Eris rolled her eyes. "Jonathan, just give us five minutes."

He glared at Eris. "You owe me for this, darling," he muttered, before kissing her firmly in a way that rather belied his words and then he left.

Lizzie applauded softly. "Well done, you," she said with a smile. "You're going to need to stand up to him fairly often; he may have inherited the familial tendency towards stupidity. Speaking of his father, how much do you know about my and Joshua's courtship, for lack of a better word?"

Eris blinked a few times—Lizzie was not the easiest person to follow in a conversation. "Not very much, I'm afraid," she answered truthfully. "I know that you and he first met at Prince Vincent's castle when his daughter Rose was kidnapped by the previous Duke Gilld and that you rescued her and defeated Duke Andrew and became known as the two most powerful mages in the world."

"That's not much?" Lizzie joked.

"Well, how did you meet?"

"Take a seat on the edge of the bed and I'll tell you. Joshua, for reasons we were rather unclear about at the time, needed my help rescuing Rose. We spent about six weeks together in Paris, bickering and falling in love. I was also looking for the man I had been affianced to before my father lost his fortune and we moved to Molyneaux. Of course, when Joshua found out whom I was supposed to have married, he lost it. I don't blame him, in retrospect, it is a bit unnerving to find that the woman you care for was betrothed to your father."

Eris stared at Lizzie in disbelief.

"Did you think I was telling you this story for my health?" Lizzie asked. "I didn't know anything about Joshua, other than that he was related to royalty and, back then, the connection between Princess Belle and the Duchy Gilld was not known. And Joshua had, rather conveniently, never told me his full name. Anyway, the point of this story is that you need to have a little faith sometimes. Boys may be stupid, but they're understanding and far less likely to blame you than you are to blame yourself."

Eris shook her head. "That's easy for you to say, you had no idea about it. I should have been able to stop him."

Lizzie sighed and, lowering her voice even more, told Eris the rest of the story. The younger woman was visibly stunned.

"I…Lizzie, I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Lizzie scoffed, feeling slightly irritable. Her altercation with Andrew was not a story she liked sharing, but if Eris was going to become the next Duchess, she had to understand what overcoming her past meant. Lizzie shuddered at the thought of being a good example.

"I don't know if I have it in me, though," Eris murmured, looking over at Lizzie. "What if I'm not strong enough? He kidnapped me even after I'd run away the first time; if you and Jonathan hadn't come after me-"

"That's what we're here for. But remember, you ran away from him in the first place. You didn't just sit back and let him do what he wanted, you escaped. And when he cheated by using a mage, you did the same." That brought a smile to Eris's face. "There's no shame in being up against a force beyond your control; it happens to everyone sooner or later. What matters is how you handle the situation anyway. You face your fears with courage, grace and honor and then nothing can touch you. And there is no loss of courage or honor to turn to your friends and family. You've made an incredible journey, Eris. Don't be afraid of the goal at the end."

Eris sat back and let Lizzie's words sink in. It took effort to see herself the way Lizzie seemed to see her. Then again, if she had to have bet on anyone having a tragic past, it would not have been the Duchess. There was something reassuring in knowing that at least some of Lizzie's strength came from some catastrophe in her past. It gave Eris hope that she had something of the same inside.

"Can we call Jonathan back in so you can tell your story?" Lizzie asked gently.

Eris took a deep breath. "Yes. But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"The only people who will know are those who hear it from your lips alone," Lizzie answered solemnly.

Lizzie opened the door to reveal Jonathan sitting nonchalantly in the doorframe with his ear suspiciously close to the keyhole. Lizzie glared down at him. He glared right back up.

"Are you done with your little tête-à-tête?" he asked.

"Yes, and if you will deign to grace us with your presence, Eris has promised to tell the tale of her escape."

Jonathan gaped at his mother. "What did you _say_ to her?"

"I thought you were listening at the keyhole?" Lizzie said with raised eyebrows.

"The room was warded," Jonathan answered sulkily. Lizzie beckoned to him and Jonathan leapt lightly to his feet and followed his mother inside the room.

"She didn't scare you into talking?" Jonathan asked anxiously as he sat down next to Eris and tried to decide whether to put his arm around her or hold her hand. She decided for him by resting her head on his shoulder.

"No, she didn't," Eris said with a quiet chuckle. "She just…reassured me a little."

Jonathan stuck his tongue out at his mother and tightened his arm around Eris. "I'm not leaving you," he said softly. "Come hell or high water…which in this family, is probably a daily occurrence."

"Don't listen to him," Lizzie said with an airy wave of her hand, "Catastrophes are very rare around here. Unless someone falls in love, that is. So really, everything that happened can be blamed on Jonathan needing a wife."

"That's because you don't have Father around to blame," Jonathan shot back.

"Very true. So where were we?"

Eris took a deep breath. "Once upon a time—that is how these stories begin, right?" Lizzie nodded. "Very well. Once upon a time, in a lovely kingdom by the sea, there lived the most beautiful princess the world ever knew."

"You?" Jonathan asked.

"Hush," Eris said, giving him a look. He shrugged helplessly, as if to say 'well, it's true'.

"She was, at least according to those who remember her, the fairest, kindest, warmest, most wonderful woman to have ever lived. And every man in the kingdom wished to be her groom. Now, her father had very definite ideas about the sort of man she should marry.

"_It cannot be just any man," murmured Prince Louis, stroking the beard he was growing in a semi-futile attempt to cover his weak chin. "He must be French and he must be a noble. After all, the most beautiful woman in the world deserves no less."_

"_Yes, Papa," Eleanor said quietly, sitting demurely before her father and waiting for him to go on. She was almost sixteen and knew nothing of such things. Her father was far wiser than her and, more importantly, his word was law._

_Louis snapped his fingers. "I've got it! We'll set a test, and the prize can be your hand in marriage. It seems a rather archaic way of doing things, but I rather think it will work."_

"_A test?" Eleanor asked. "You mean a tournament?"_

"_No, no, that's far too simple. We want something special for a girl as special as you." For the next week, his royal highness wandered around in a bit of a daze, trying to think of the perfect impossible task. For he knew who he wanted to wed his daughter. His name was St. George Delamater and he was the heir to one of the richest Duchies in Northern France. A marriage between that boy and his daughter would make his kingdom the largest and wealthiest in the country…and provide him with the perfect heir to the throne to keep those nasty second cousins at bay. Not for the first time, did he regret his wife's failure to carry another child to term. But what could not be helped had to be overcome._

_In a moment of pure genius, or so he thought, Prince Louis hit upon the exact task he had been looking for. He called together the court magicians and explained to them what they should do. They were delighted to exercise their skills in such a new way and agreed._

_The terms of the task were soon publicized. Every male in the kingdom was welcome to participate—all they needed to do was appear at the castle and equipment would be provided, to ensure that it was a test of the hero and not his gear. He was shown the way to the castle dungeons, where a giant wyvern was holding the princess hostage. The man who freed the Princess and slayed the dragon would be rewarded with the hand of the Princess._

_The Princess went good-naturedly to the dungeon, which had been furnished exquisitely to rival her real bedroom. Her father had provided ample needlework and a few tracts from the library that were written specifically for young ladies on the verge of becoming wives. And if that failed to distract her, she had a window that overlooked the wyvern's lair. The creature itself was repulsive, a long snakelike monster with two sharp front claws and bat like wings sprouting from its ridged spine. And yet, it was beautiful too. When the sunlight filtered through the windows and reflected off its scales, Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. It shimmered in a way that made Eleanor feel pale and drab beside it, despite knowing, from having been told so many times, that her hair shimmered like the palest gold, her skin glimmered like ivory and her eyes shone like silver._

_The window became far more interesting when the first of her suitors appeared. She watched excitedly as he approached the fell dragon, brandished his sword once and then went running back the way he came. The wyvern snorted fire in his direction, seeming as disappointed in the knight as the princess herself._

_One by one, the young (and not so young) men entered the dungeons. Most of them ran out just as quickly. A precious few stayed to fight, but they were always roundly defeated. Eleanor found watching the knights to be a chore now, knowing that none could defeat the wyvern, but it was a chore she did to the best of her ability._

_It was a day like every other, about four months after the task had first been set. Two knights had already fought for her hand – one had barely even unsheathed his sword before running from the sight of the monster, while the other put up a valiant fight and only barely managed not to be toasted to a cinder. The third hero of the day approached the wyvern and announced his challenge. It was short and simple._

"_I am St. George Delamater and you, fell beast, have met your match."_

_It was not a particularly exciting duel, at least as far as Eleanor could see. Most of it was blocked by the dragon's wings, but it lasted longer than the rest had. Eleanor had finally decided that the dragon must have eaten poor St. George, when a fearful cry came from down below. The wyvern tumbled from the air and disappeared in a puff of smoke._

_Eleanor blinked in disbelief. The wyvern was gone…just disappeared. She laughed with relief, more than ready to leave her confinement. _

_The heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs signaled the approached of her suitor. Eleanor rushed to the mirror and looked around despairingly for something, anything she could do to improve her hair (which fell in perfect ringlets) or her dress (which only drew attention to her lovely form)._

"_Princess Eleanor," said a deep voice from the door. Eleanor turned around slowly and met the gaze of the clearest gray eyes she had ever seen. St. George had removed his helmet and she could now see the black locks that framed the best looking face in France, if not all of Europe. Eleanor felt herself go weak at the knees._

"_Welcome, your Grace," she said, curtsying ever so slightly._

"_I've come to rescue you," he said, reaching for her hand. She let him take it and followed him through the dungeons._

_As they crossed the floor of the main chamber, something in the corner of the room caught her eye. She could not go closer to look, but it seemed like the body of a small garter snake whose head had been severed._

"I remember that spell!" Lizzie exclaimed, snapping her fingers.

Jonathan visibly jumped; he had clearly been engrossed in the narrative. Eris looked up at the Duchess. "You remember it?" she asked curiously. "How?"

"I'm older than I look, remember?" Lizzie said with a chuckle. "Joshua was consulted about a very complicated transformation spell—Diana was five at the time and Jonathan was five months away from being born so we were both rather distracted. It had to do with making a small reptile appear in the form of a giant dragon and only appear in its real form to one person. We probably should have looked closer into it. After all, how often does an entire kingdom's worth of mages interest itself in an illusion?"

Jonathan was staring at her. "Now that we've settled that, is there any chance Eris could continue her story?"

"It's alright," Eris said. "I had always wondered about the dragon. My mother never knew that they had cheated for him; she had always thought he defeated a real dragon for her. Perhaps if she had, she might have realized sooner—but I'll get to that in a minute."

"Well?" Jonathan demanded. "What happened next?"

"They were married, of course. It was the event of decade, as far as everyone was concerned. No one could remember seeing a more radiant bride or a handsomer groom. They were the perfect match. Or so everyone thought." Eris paused. "My mother never spoke about what happened next. She finished the story there. But I was a curious child and, sooner or later, I had pieced the rest of the story together."

_St. George was not a kind husband. He was a good king and his people loved him, but he was not kind. Eleanor knew nothing about the ways of the world and her first night as a married woman left her frightened and shamed. She wanted to go to her father and complain, but her lady-in-waiting held her back. Eleanor slowly learned not to complain, to stay silent, to take what St. George offered without hoping for more. He loved her, but he loved her as a man loved a favorite hound or suit of clothes. He loved her because she reflected well on himself. His infatuation with her was all Eleanor had, though, so she cultivated with all her might, trying to turn each moment into something between them. She would submit to anything for him, just to gain even an ounce of affection._

_Eighteen months after her wedding, Eleanor gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Adéle. Eleanor lavished all the love for which St. George had no need on this little girl and kept her as far away from her father as possible, for fear that his pale haired daughter might steal even the tiniest of St. George's love from Eleanor._

_The years went by. Prince Louis died and St. George ascended the throne. He sired three more children on Eleanor, two boys and another little girl. None of them lived past three. With each pregnancy, Eleanor grew weaker. And when Adéle was just seven years old, Eleanor caught pneumonia and never recovered._

_By that time, the laughing and bright angel of her youth was gone. She was only twenty-five years old, but she felt as if she had lived until one hundred. Before her death, she called her husband in to see her. St. George was beside himself at her imminent death—this was a dragon he could not fight. And while they had never been soulmates, he still wanted her. She was the prize jewel in his collection and it galled him to lose her to such an enemy as Death._

"_Promise me," she whispered, clutching at his hand, "Promise me that when you marry again, you will marry a woman who is at least as beautiful as I was. I will not have our nation say that you ever married beneath you."_

"_Eleanor," St. George gasped, "Eleanor, my love, please don't die.."_

_Her heart swelled at the thought that here, at the end, after it all, maybe he did love her. It almost made her death seem worth it. "Promise me," she demanded in a voice no louder than the breeze._

"_I promise," he murmured, kissing her hands, her cheeks, her lips—terrified at the thought of losing his wife. What would he do without her?"_

"_Swear it!" Eleanor repeated, her voice growing stronger._

"_I swear it!" St. George shouted. "I will never wed again unless I find a woman who surpasses you, the most beautiful woman in the world!"_

_Eleanor died with a smile on her lips, comforted that no other woman would steal what little love St. George had in his heart._

"He kept his promise, of course," Eris said, her voice almost conversational. "All the physicians and court officials heard him swear it, what else could he have done? That did not keep him from looking though. And if he sowed his share of wild oats…well, it was not like he was the first. I grew up in the shadow of my mother's curse on the kingdom. Everyone wanted to be the one to find my father his next wife. Once I reached the age of fourteen, though, someone had the brilliant idea of starting to search for a husband for me. I was still a rather gangly thing, with oily hair and a pointy chin."

Jonathan snickered.

"What?" Eris said, turning on him.

"I have a hard time picturing you as an awkward adolescent," Jonathan answered.

"I don't," Eris answered. "It was awful. But I got through it and woke up one morning and only to be told that I was beautiful. The most beautiful woman in all of France. As beautiful as my mother.

"Someone made the mistake of saying that in front of my father. I had the misfortune to be watching his face at the time. It was like watching a fire catch light. Before I knew it, his eyes were upon me and the inferno had begun."

_The next six months passed as a blur for Adéle. St. George had declared that he had found the most beautiful woman in all the world and would wed her. The populace rejoiced and only those in the castle knew the truth. Adéle was in a state of shock; nothing in her world could have prepared her for the dread she felt at meeting her own father at the altar. She knew she could not go through with it, but she did not know how to refuse. All she could think about was her mother's warning to stay away from her father. St. George was Eleanor's and Eleanor's alone. It seemed inconceivable that Adéle would be taking her mother's place. The day drew ever closer and Adéle stood dumbly as the dress was fitted to her frame and the gala celebration was planned around her. The whispers in the castle had changed. Now there were suggestions that she had bespelled her father to wed her, that she was a witch and that if she spoke to you, you would be under her spell and doomed to love her as well._

_St. George was, perhaps, less than vigilant about those rumors. He was too wrapped up in the brilliance of his plan, a way to bring back his beloved Eleanor—who had taken onastatus of goddess in his mind that she had never held in her life—and solve the pesky suitor problem as well._

_Adéle remained in shock the entire week leading up to the wedding. She was dressed in the same finery her mother had worn; the same string of pearls adorned her neck, the same diadem rested on her forehead. It was only when she stood across from St. George, dumbly saying the words "I do" that she awoke from the strange, dreamlike state she had been in._

_The veil was lifting, two hands were cupping her face and Adéle felt glued to the ground. Only her eyes showed her new awareness, they were wide with terror and pleading for help. St. Goerge did not notice; his eyes were closed as he kissed the bride. As his lips touched hers, his tongue pressed against her tightly closed mouth and his teeth tugged at her lower lip to force her to open up to him, Adéle swore that she would escape somehow._

_The ceremony was over and the celebration had begun. Everyone wanted to dance with the bride, but St. George was extremely possessive of her. Adéle barely noticed anyone at all; she was tense as a coiled spring, waiting for her opportunity to escape. When midnight rolled around and no opportunity had presented itself, Adéle decided to take matters into her own hands. With artful clumsiness, she stepped on the hem of her long, lacy skirts and ripped two flounces. Gabbling the barest of excuses, Adéle rushed off to one of the side chambers in order to have one of her ladies-in-waiting fix it._

_She ran through the chamber, out the door on the other side and, with her skirts hiked up as far as she could, she fled the castle through the servants' quarters. Wrapped in an itchy wool cloak, which barely hid her wedding finery, she made her way across France._

"The dress stayed white for about a day," Eris murmured. "By the time the last of it finally tore off, it was the same dull brown as the cloak. That held up better, which was fortunate as I was traveling in my chemise and corset by then. I don't remember much of how I survived. I stole a lot; that much I remember. I felt bad for it, but I still wanted to live. As time went by, I traveled further and further from home until I finally reached the sea. It was a beautiful sight. I thought…if I could just cross the channel I would be safe.

"Things were no different in England. I begged for my bread for a time, but there is a common misconception that a young woman in need of money is of a certain profession and I had not run from my father to be taken by some drunk on the streets. So I moved on, back into the wild. There was little food there, especially as the towns grew rarer. I stumbled into the woods near Gilld Hall entirely by accident. I was ready to give up—just lie down and die. There seemed nothing left to live for. When I first saw the bear, I was almost grateful for its presence. And then Gareth came." Eris paused in her narrative. "I wonder if he knew what he was doing, who he was saving."

"I think so," Jonathan answered, wrapping his arms tightly around Eris's frame. "I think he knew he was getting old and wouldn't be around to take care of me forever so he found you. I always said that dog was smart."

"Jonathan, I wish—"

"Shh," he said gently. "You would have liked him. And he would have adored you. But even the best pets grow old and die. He died so you could live and I am grateful that he made that sacrifice."

Eris sniffled and Lizzie silently handed her a handkerchief. "Thank you," Eris said wetly, blowing her nose.

"You're welcome. And what was all that nonsense earlier about looking down on you for your story?"

"I had thought—"

"That being strong means bad things don't happen to you?" Jonathan interrupted. "Don't be absurd."

"It does sound silly, in retrospect," she admitted.

"Good," Lizzie said decisively.

Jonathan chuckled and kissed the top of Eris's head.

There was a knock on the door. Lizzie scrambled back into bed and not a moment too son. Babette, who was now head of all the female staff in the household, poked her head in. "Her Majesty wishes to know if Lord Jonathan and Lady Eris would like to join the family for lunch. She regrets that she cannot extend this invitation to the Duchess, but she has told me to tell you that she is too afraid risking the Duke's displeasure."

Lizzie muttered something under her breath that Jonathan was shocked to find out his mother knew and that Eris was on the verge of asking for a definition. Babette managed to restrain her amusement.

"We will see you later, Mother," Jonathan called as they left. Lizzie rose to feet as soon as they left and stood at the window, looking out at the castle grounds. The weight of history was lying heavily on her, both her own and Eris's. It had been a long time since Lizzie had thought about those days; when she had married Joshua and flinched at his touch.

Shaking her head as if to displace the melancholy, Lizzie slipped out of her room and made her way towards the West wing. She chuckled softly as she walked straight through the door and past her sentries, who looked as though they wanted nothing more than to give up guarding the door and find a nice, quiet, _dark_ corner.

Magic certainly has its uses, Lizzie mused as she kept the invisibility spell up until she reached Vincent's study. Once she was inside, she stood before a small end table that, once upon a time, held an enchanted rose and now was the resting place of a crystal ball.

Lizzie tapped it twice with her right forefinger and murmured a few words.

"Abigail, Diana, Anthony," she called into it. "Come here, I need to speak with you."

_**T.B.C.**_

A/N – Dear God, that was long! Twice the length of my usual chapters, give or take. But I digress. And Eris's story was supposed to take less time. And I hadn't planned on Lizzie telling Eris about her whole thing…which I left out because it was a story I told once and, if you've made it this far in ACOT, you know what happened.

Eris's mother and family history are not part of the original fairy tale. I made them up because I wanted a little more background. I tried telling it in traditional fairy tale style – short and low on the dialogue. And I wanted Eris's father to be twisted by greed and power and love even, but not originally evil. I was originally thinking about having him rape Eleanor while they're still in the dungeon, but that seemed too…out of character, I suppose. And I don't necessarily like the idea of having the villain do something unspeakably awful just to make the point that he's evil.

St. George, is the legendary dragon slayer, which is why the test was slaying the dragon.

And incidentally, spell check thinks that Eleanor should be awarded to the knight "who spayed the dragon." Hmm…

Right, back on topic. I think I took care of everything I wanted to in this chapter. That means there's just one left after this. Lizzie and the kids have to chat, Joshua has to _finally_ reassure himself that his wife is alive. And I have one more idea planned…

Thank you, all my darling reviewers. What would I do without you? And I hope that I remember to reply to you all last time. If I didn't, well, review again and I promise to this time around.

Love always,

Damian


End file.
